Love the One You're With
by mel5224
Summary: Mallory thought she'd found the perfect guy.  Mallory thought wrong.
1. Chapter 1

**Love the One You're With**

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. They belong to Ann M. Martin.

A/N: This story starts about a year before ILAW, but the timelines will cross later.

* * *

**Chapter One**

Have you ever hated someone? I mean, _really_ hated them? I was always one to toss that word around when I was younger. I hate my hair. I hate my braces. I hate my glasses. As I got older, I realized the strength the word carried. It wasn't something to be taken lightly. Maybe it was just me, because I was so insecure, but I always felt inferior to everyone around me. Still, I never liked to use the word hate. Dislike was always appropriate enough. Who wants to have a long hate list?

I grew up with seven brothers and sisters. That's right, I said seven. Maybe that's what made me such a tolerable person. You really learn to be patient when you live with so many people. I considered myself a pro at sharing the bathroom: I could be in and out of there in five minutes flat, which included brushing my teeth and hair (at least as far as I could drag a brush through the unruly mop of red fuzz that resembled my hair), washing my face, and using the bathroom.

When I finally finished high school I was beyond excited to go to college. My school years were…less than stellar, to put it nicely. I had accepted the fact that I wasn't the girl that always had dates on Friday nights, or got invited to all the wildest parties. I had a nice enough guy whom I casually dated named Ben Hobart, and a best friend named Jessi Ramsey and that was enough for me. I used to be a part of a baby-sitting club, but we pretty much grew apart when we ended up in separate schools, since most of the girls were older than Jessi and I.

Originally, I was eager to get to high school and get a fresh start, away from the horrors that I endured in middle school, which I'm not going to really get into. Let's just say it involved the name "Spaz Girl" and a new boarding school.

I returned to Stoneybrook, Connecticut which is where I grew up, for high school. I was happy to be reunited with Jessi and Ben, and at first things were great. Ben actually gave me my first kiss, which was thrilling, because I was beginning to think that all guys had a secret fear of clowns and my hair frightened them. We had fun, but I think we were both too shy and somewhat geeky to really try anything too extreme. We went to the movies, hung out at the mall, and snuck kisses when no one was looking. I did not mind this arrangement one bit.

Naturally, as seemed to be the case with most guys, Ben started to want more. At first, when he suggested we "take our relationship to the next level", I told him I wasn't ready and that was that. As time went on, he began to get slightly more aggressive. Once we were studying on my bed and he suddenly pressed me against my pillows and kissed me roughly while he held my wrists over my head. The first time this happened I was stunned. He'd never, EVER acted like that before, not even remotely close. I was upset, but I gave him another chance until it happened again, and that was it. I immediately called things off, telling him that if he couldn't respect my wishes, he could find some tramp to stick his dick in. That last bit of vulgarity came after a very heated argument.

That was pretty much the last I heard of Ben. He never called me again, he ignored me in the U.S. History class we shared together, and he would walk straight past me as if I were a stranger if we passed each other in the halls. It stung at first, but I realized I was better off. It was weird how quickly I got over Ben, since I'd developed a huge crush on him pretty much the first time we met.

While we were dating, I did the stupid girl thing where you forget your friends. I wish someone could be there to look at my situation and go "Oh, Mallory." Maybe I would've wised up sooner. Anytime Jessi would call, I would always be too busy with Ben. After we broke up, I started calling her again to hang out. Unfortunately, she'd begun to hang out with some other girls in our class at this time. "So, now that you and Ben aren't together, you suddenly have time for me?" she'd asked, looking a little smug.

All this was during the end of junior year. Senior year was pretty much hell. I didn't really have anyone, and I pretty much kept to myself. I threw myself into school work, even though I already knew where I was going for college. I was going to Cameron College, a small liberal arts college located in Eastern Massachusetts. It wasn't too far from the boarding school I'd attended, which is where I'd heard about it in the first place.

Graduating was bittersweet. I was happy to be moving on, but I had no one to really share my excitement with other than Beth Poller, whom I sat next to during the ceremony. She gave me a quick hug after Kevin Zorzi's name was called. "We did it, Mal!" she'd squealed. After that some other girls came up to her and she abandoned me to squeal some more with them. I found Jessi and offered her a hug of congratulations. "Good luck at Julliard," I'd told her. She looked sad, and there was a wistfulness in her eyes. But she simply said, "Thanks. Good luck to you too." Then she was stopped by her own group of friends. More squealing followed. All the girls sounded like a round a pigs about to be slaughtered.

My family took us all out to dinner at Denny's. Yes, _Denny's_. You go to Denny's when you're drunk at three in the morning and you're craving breakfast and it's the only place open. You do not go to Denny's to celebrate someone graduating from high school. But that's where we went and I tried to make the best of it. The triplets (Byron, Adam, and Jordan) looked generally bored and probably wanted to be with their friends instead of at Denny's. Vanessa had the same dreamy look she seemed to have been permanently born with. She loved to write poetry and I wondered if at that very moment she was trying to come up with a word that rhymed with "waffles". My brother Nicky was digging into his hamburger and fries, unaware of everyone else. He was fourteen, and hitting puberty. All he cared in this stage of his life was food. My sister Margo was complaining (loudly) that her chicken sandwich was cold. My father was trying to shush her and signal our waiter at the same time. Claire was grumbling because she had to order from the children's menu since she was still twelve. It's not like she would eat food off the normal menu. She and Margo were the pickiest easters I knew. Besides, the word scramble was keeping her entertained so I don't know what she was complaining about.

Dinner seemed endless. It's hard to keep such a large group happy at once. I felt bad for our waiter, who probably wanted to shoot Margo by the end of the meal. I honestly don't know how our parents raised all of us and kept their sanity. I'd probably be zipped up in a white jacket muttering "Those damn kids…". Despite all this, my family was all I had and I never forgot that. I would miss them terribly when I went away to school.

I remember feeling a flutter at the very thought of going to school. Sure, I would miss my family. But I was gaining freedom, and what eighteen year old girl doesn't look forward to that?

* * *

"Mallory, are you all packed?"

I looked up at my mother standing in the doorway. Her chestnut brown hair (quick gripe: everyone in my family got gorgeous chestnut brown hair. Me? Red frizz. Thanks, _genetics_.) framed her gentle face. My mother always told us we kept her looking young, despite what one might think about someone who's raised eight kids.

"I'm done, Mom," I replied, swinging my legs off the bed and putting a bookmark in the book I was reading. Across from me, Vanessa was napping on her bed. "I was just trying to stay quiet for Vanessa."

My mother looked at Vanessa and nodded. "Well, we leave at seven sharp tomorrow morning. Did you look at the checklist?"

My mother had made me a checklist of everything I had to take with me. Most kids get to go to Linens & Things and pick out new comforters and matching pillowcases. When you have eight brothers and sisters, you take the stuff you have. My parents bought me a shower caddy and a trash can because the one in our room is plastic and for some reason they don't allow plastic trash cans in any dorm room. I guess because of fires or something like that. Not having new stuff didn't matter; this was the way I'd grown up and I'd learned to understand that our parents did what they could.

"Everything is ticked off on the checklist, but I'll double check it tomorrow."

"Good. It's going to be hard not having you around," my mother said, as if she was talking to me about the weather.

I'd gotten used to this. My mother was a pro at making us feel guilty without saying so directly. "I'm only three hours away, Mom. I'll come home once a month and every major holiday. We've discussed this."

"I know, sweetie. Can't a mother miss her daughter?" she asked, pretending to be offended. "I'll just worry about you while you're out there. I don't want you to get into any trouble."

"You know me better than that Mom," I told her patiently.

My mother came over to me and gave me a hug. "You're right. You're my smart, beautiful, practical daughter." I didn't tell her that only two of those were true. She hates it when I bash my looks. She always tells me I'm beautiful. Apparently I wasn't the only one that needed glasses.

* * *

The next morning was a flurry of activity. I was scrambling around, running back and forth from my room to our van, cramming it with all of my stuff. I felt like I'd made about a hundred trips up and down the stairs. My legs were starting to feel like jelly.

After everything was packed, it came time for the hardest part. My family all gathered at the corner of the sidewalk. Most of them were too bleary-eyed to even be aware of what was going on. My father had gone around and woken everyone up, and everyone complained. It was their last weekend to sleep in before school started next week, they all said.

I started with Claire. "Be good," I told her, giving her a hug. She was barely standing up. Thankfully, Margo was actually awake. "I'll miss you!" she wailed as she threw her arms around my neck.

"Can't breathe, Margo," I gasped. She released her arms. I turned to Nicky. "I can't believe you're starting high school," I said. "I think you're going to have a blast!" Nicky had always felt out of place in our family, since the triplets acted as though they were Siamese and he wouldn't be caught dead playing with girls. High school would be a great way for him to find new friends.

Vanessa had turned away from me, crying. "Hey, don't be sad Vanessa. You're the first one of us to get her own room!" I figured that would make her feel better. "But I _liked_ sharing a room with you!" she sobbed. "I didn't like when you went away the first time and I don't like it now." I let her be, since nothing I did would change fact that I was going to school. I gave her a hug and turned to the triplets, who, with exception of Byron, were literally sleeping as they stood on the sidewalk. "Bye Byron," I whispered. "Tell your brothers when they wake up that I'll miss them."

Byron took this opportunity to punch Adam and Jordan simultaneously. "Wake up, losers, Mallory's leaving." They mumbled incoherently something that I'm sure was supposed to be a goodbye. My dad then caught me slightly off guard and swept me up into a huge hug that lifted me off the ground. "You take care of yourself honey," he said into my hair. "Don't forget who you are." It seemed like a weird thing to say, and I didn't quite know how to respond to it.

I didn't get the chance anyway, because my mother ushered me inside the car. "Come on, Mallory we have to get going if we want to avoid traffic."

I obediently went inside and buckled my seat, waving to my family from the window. Then I faced forward, feeling a surge of excitement. Today was the start of a new life!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The drive to Cameron College flew by. My mother and I actually had a great talk, more like a friendly talk than a parental one. She told me about the time she wanted to impress this guy in college and she drank too many beers and ended up puking on his shoes right before he was going to kiss her. It made me laugh, but for some reason I couldn't picture my mother being drunk. It was too weird.

When we arrived, she put the car in park and turned to me. "Mallory, I wanted to tell you something. You know we don't have the easiest financial situation, and I'm glad that your grades and recommendations from Riverbend were able to get you a such great scholarship. I don't think your father and I have really told you that before. We are both so, so proud of you."

"Thanks, Mom. Of course, I'll do all I can too. I'm going to try to get a part-time job and make whatever money I can to help out with the bills."

My mother smiled at me before unlocking her seat belt and popping open the back to get my stuff. I followed her and together we managed to get everything into my new dorm room in less than an hour. The dorm room was small and completely symmetrical. It looked as if someone had placed a mirror in the middle of the room. There were two beds against each wall. Above the beds was a shelf that ran the length of the wall, and behind the beds were identical dressers with a mirror and a flourescent light. At the front of the room was a gigantic window that took up nearly the entire wall, and two desks that sat on either side of the window.

"Have you spoken to your new roomate yet?" my mom asked, getting my sheets from one of the boxes and starting to cover my bed.

"They sent her information in the mail so we can call them and get acquainted. Her name is Sarah Jensen. She seems nice, I guess. We only talked for a little bit to try and figure out who was going to bring what."

Sarah and I had agreed that she would bring a television, and I would pay the rental fee for the refrigerator/microwave combo that they offered to all students. I think they are specially made to be more electrically economical or something like that. I also managed to convince my parents to bring an old DVD player from our rec room, since the rental fee wasn't all that much. I didn't want her to think I was trying to be cheap.

It wasn't as if I'd left a ton of friends behind, and I'd hoped that my new roommate and I would get along. When we spoke she didn't seem too friendly, but I wrote that off to her being nervous. After all, we'd never spoken before and it's always awkward to try and carry a conversation with someone you're not exactly comfortable with. I wanted to take whatever steps it took to make sure we didn't get off on the wrong foot.

My mother was busy hanging my clothes up in the closet and I was organizing some items in my desk when a tall, striking blond girl walked in. Her pin straight blonde hair was just past her shoulders, and she had emerald green eyes, high cheekbones, and a full mouth. She was, simply put, completely gorgeous. She was wearing a white halter top that showed off her tan, and a royal blue cotton skirt. Her legs were long and slender and she was wearing white sandals that laced up her legs.

I dropped the notebook I was holding, then picked it up, immediately feeling like a dork. My mother walked over to the girl and stuck out her hand. "Hi, are you Sarah? Dee Pike. I'm Mallory's mother."

Sarah looked from my mother to me, then set down the box she was holding. Her face broke into an awkward smile. "Sarah Jensen," she said, shaking my mother's hand and showing two rows of perfect white teeth.

She walked over to me and offered her hand. "You must be Mallory. It's…nice to meet you." She looked at me strangely.

"Nice to meet you," I mumbled, seeing all hopes of having a best friend for a roommate fly out our enormous window. Sarah was probably the type of girl who already had loads of friends. As if to prove my point, two guys came into the room loaded with boxes. The best way to describe them would be "typical frat guys". They both had spiky brown hair, and one wore a gray T-shirt while the other wore a navy blue shirt. They were muscular, as evidenced by the bulging biceps that were straining to carry the boxes.

"Hey, where did you want these?" one of them asked. He had on a backwards Boston Red Sox cap that made his hazel eyes stand out.

"Oh, right here," she said, giggling. "Thanks…Jason right? I'll have to remember your name for later."

Not to be outdone, the other guy put his own boxes next to the others and said, "Jason and Jeremy. Don't forget it, because we'll definitely be calling you later."

As soon as they'd left Sarah let out a dramatic sigh. "I am _so_ glad they offered to carry my stuff! I would've died carrying all those boxes myself."

"Did you come by yourself?" my mother asked, looking mildly horrified.

"It's a long story," she replied, using a pen she'd retrieved from her white hobo bag to puncture the tape on the boxes. "I'm originally from South Carolina, and my parents wanted me to go to school locally. But I'd heard about Cameron at our school's college fair, and I just fell in love. My parents told me they would pay for school, but they were really upset I was moving away. They pretty much told me I'd have to get here on my own, so I rented a U-Haul and drove here myself."

My mother looked stunned. "I see." She glanced at me, where I was still standing holding the same notebook I'd dropped earlier. "Mallory, are you just about done unpacking over there?"

"Uh, I uh…yeah," I said, rather lamely. Sarah raised her eyebrows, but then turned her attention to her own unpacking.

After we'd finished, my mother offered to buy me lunch. I asked Sarah if she wanted to go with us, but she declined. Actually, she said "ummmm" for about five minutes, then turned her back to us which we both interpreted as a no.

"Your roommate is very pretty," my mother commented as we were walking back to our car. "I'm sure you will get along fine." Maybe it was just my own insecurity, but I read between the lines and translated, "Despite the fact your roommate looks like a model and you look like a horse with bad hair, I'm sure you'll be best friends!"

"Thanks, Mom," I muttered.

We drove around until we found a McDonald's, which only took about three minutes. After ordering, I realized I wasn't very hungry, but I made an effort to eat my hamburger, seeing as how it set my mother back a whopping eighty-nine cents. Ever the pessimist, I was beginning to question this whole college thing. What had I been so excited about?

"Mallory? Are you all right?" my mother asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just a little nervous that's all." That was the truth.

We drove back slowly, my mother taking in the scenery. "This doesn't look too different from Stoneybrook. I'm sure you'll like it here."

"It does look nice," I said, glancing out the window at the quaint homes surrounded by the lush greenery. Outside one of the homes, children were jumping through a sprinkler on their lawn, trying to enjoy the last few days of warmth.

There were still a lot of students milling around outside the college when we returned, bringing in boxes and furniture, or gathering around getting to know each other. Sarah was setting up her lavendar comforter when we got back to the room. She didn't look up or say anything when we walked back in.

"Well Mallory, I think I'm going to get going," my mother said, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Let you get acquainted."

"Okay, Mom. Thanks for everything," I said, feeling my lip quiver. I didn't want to cry in front of Sarah for some reason. I gave my mother a big hug, and she was off.

"So," I said, trying to sound chipper. "Tell me about yourself Sarah."

She gave me a strange look. "Um, what do you want to know?"

"I don't know…" I trailed off, feeling like a complete moron. "What do you like to do for fun? What are you majoring in? That kind of stuff."

She sighed and brushed a strand of hair away. "I like to go out and party. I'm majoring in English." With that she turned back to her comforter.

"Oh," was all I said.

I tried to make myself look busy by straightening my already neat desk. I once again wrote off Sarah's brusqueness to her wanting to get unpacked. Maybe I should've just let her finish before I went pressing for information. I silently chided myself and hoped the day would get better. It certainly couldn't get any worse.

* * *

A few hours later three very cute guys showed up our door, each holding a stack of papers in their hands. "Party tonight. Freshmen only," one of them said, tossing a few papers at us before going to the next room.

"Wow, a party!" I exclaimed, jumping up and scooping one of the papers up.

Sarah rolled her eyes at me. "Don't bother," she remarked. "Didn't you _see_ those guys? They were obviously seniors. It's a prank."

"Are you sure?" I asked uncertainly. The paper looked legit to me.

"Wow, and I thought I was from a small town," Sarah said, snatching the paper out of my hands. "Trust me, sweetie, it's definitely a prank."

"Okay sorry," I mumbled, feeling annoyed. Why was Sarah being so mean? Because I didn't look like her? I tried not to feel so paranoid but she was making it hard.

Since she wasn't making any effort to be nice, I decided to try to introduce myself to the other girls on the floor. I left without saying anything to her, and made my way outside. There were names of each roommate on all the doors, so we would be able to find our rooms. I walked to the door on our left and read the names: Meghan & Betsy. Hopefully they would be nicer than my roommate.

I cautiously poked my head through the door. Inside there were two girls busily unpacking. One of the girls had curly blonde hair, and was kind of stocky. The other girl had straight brown hair, and was very tall. "Hey!" I said brightly. They both looked up, looking somewhat surprised.

"Hi," the blonde girl said, extending her hand. "I'm Besty."

"Mallory," I told her, happy she seemed geniune.

"I'm Meghan," the other girl added. "Nice to meet you. Where's your room?"

"Right next door."

Betsy's eyes widened. "You're rooming with that Amazon girl?"

I laughed. "Sarah? Yeah, that's her."

Meghan grabbed my arm and forced me to sit down on her bed. "Is she as bitchy as she looks? She came in here by accident, and we told her this wasn't her room, and she totally gave us this look of absolute _digust_. Like it's our fault that she's a moron who obviously didn't bother to read the sign on the door."

I laughed again. "She hasn't exactly been Miss Congeniality," I admitted.

"Well, if you ever need to chill, you can come in here," Betsy offered.

The smile on my face must've been a mile wide. "I will probably take you up on that. Thanks guys."

We talked for awhile longer and made plans to go to dinner that night. I walked back to my room, feeling a million times better.

I decided it was time to experience taking a shower in college. I filled my shower caddy with my shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and a poofy mesh sponge. I slipped on some black flip flops, which my mother absolutely made sure I wore, telling me "You have no idea what kind of filth has accumulated in those showers. You could get athlete's foot from those places."

I grabbed a towel and a robe from my closet and draped them over my shoulder. "I'm taking a shower," I called to Sarah as I left the room. Not like she cared.

I felt silly as I walked into the bathroom, realizing I was the only one in there. Everyone else was probably enjoying their first day at college. It didn't matter. I had two nice girls next door, and dinner plans for that night. Things were looking up.

I took my time in the shower, although it definitely wasn't what I was used to. The floors had a hard plastic mat on the bottom of it, and the curtain didn't really close all the way. On the up side, I had the luxury of actually spending more than ten minutes in the shower without the worry that someone would pound on the door claiming they needed to pee.

After my shower (which lasted a record thirty minutes), I wrapped a robe around myself and pulled my hair up into a towel. My soaking wet flip flops squished all the way down the hall. I reached my room and turned the handle. It was locked. My heart sank as I realized I hadn't brought the room key we were provided with when we checked in. I tried knocking on the door to get Sarah's attention, but she didn't answer. For a moment I panicked, wondering if she had gone out, but then I heard her talking.

"No she's a total loser," I heard her say. Was she talking about me? I scooted closer and pressed my ear against the door.

"And the thing is, I knew it. I told you didn't I? That day I talked to her I could just tell. She sounded like such a nerd. So, like, I'm thinking 'Okay, maybe she was just nervous', but no I get here and she's this total dork with Little Orphan Annie hair. Has she ever heard of a flat iron?" Silence, followed by laughter. "I know! That's exactly what her hair looks like! Then, the clothes…like, where does she even _shop_? She was wearing _loafers_ Julie. Loafers. Yeah, like the one's with the tassles."

I could feel myself fuming. Still, I wanted to hear what else she had to say. "This is totally gonna suck. Figures I get stuck with the biggest freak for a roommate. I was hoping I'd have some cool chick I could party with. This girl probably doesn't even drink! Yeah, I know. Maybe I'll just request a new roommate. I'll tell them she smokes, or something…Who cares if it's not true?" Then she laughed again.

I'd had enough. I knocked on the door loudly. "Oh shit, Julie I gotta go. That must be her. I think she went to go take a shower. The loser probably forgot her key."

I could feel my lip trembling. How could she be so mean? I hadn't even done anything to deserve the comments she was saying. So what if I wasn't tall and blonde? It didn't mean we couldn't be friends.

Sarah swung the door open, a bright smile plastered on her face. "Hey!" she exclaimed, her voice extra sugary. "Did you forget your key?"

"Yes," I said curtly, brushing past her to my closet. I grabbed my pajamas from one of the drawers and marched inside my closet. The best feature of the room was an actual walk in closet. It wasn't huge, but it was big enough for me to change in, and it had a light inside. I tossed my damp towel on my bed and ran my fingers through my hair, trying to separate the curls before they frizzed out of control. "By the way, I don't like my hair any more than you do."

"You were _listening_ to my conversation?" she asked, coming up behind me.

"It was pretty easy. I'm sure everyone in the hall could hear you."

She rolled her eyes at me. "Whatever." She walked over to her dresser and picked up her cell phone. She dialed a number, a mischevious smile on her face. "Jeremy?" she asked. "It's me, Sarah. Listen, what are you guys doing tonight? I'm looking to have some fun, after all we're in college now, right?" she laughed a haughty laugh. "Great, I'll be there." She snapped her phone shut and looked at me. "I'm going out, what are you going to do, read?" She didn't give me a chance to answer. "Later Annie!"

I stared after her. Somehow, I'd managed to end up with my worst nightmare as a roommate. I decided that tomorrow I would go down to the freshman office and tell them she was a smoker. If she wanted to play like that, I was ready for her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

I stood in front of my closet and tried to decide what to wear for my first day of class. Hearing Sarah make fun of my clothes suddenly made nothing I owned seem right. After a few minutes, I finally decided on jeans and a simple blue T-shirt. I ditched my loafers for some white sneakers. No one could find anything wrong with that, I figured.

Just my luck, the hair fairy decided to surprise me with a gigantic rat's nest of red. I sighed, wishing for the millionth time that I could for one day, wake up with straight hair. I yanked my hair back into a ponytail, usually the easiest way to tame it. I stuck an extra elastic in my pocket. It's unbelievable how many times my hair has actually snapped the elastic band. Well, either unbelievable or embarrassing, depending on how you look at it.

I could hear Sarah grumbling from her bed. "Do you have to make so much _noise_?" she growled. "Some of us don't have class until ten and would like to sleep."

I didn't say anything. I had the urge to start banging stuff around in an effort to retaliate but I realized it really wasn't worth it to stoop to her level. I found that ignoring her snide remarks and outbursts worked best. I swear, sometimes it really seemed to annoy her that she didn't get to me. Or at least, when I didn't show that she did.

I glared at her for a second before grabbing my denim jacket and hurrying outside, making sure to shut the door as quietly as I could behind me. I managed to find the building my class was located in rather quickly. You never want to be that person wandering around campus on the first day, advertising your freshman rank to the world. I scurried inside the building and found room 103, then went in the classroom to take my seat. My first class of the day was English, which was definitely a motivation to get up early. I wouldn't have that same motiviation if it were College Algebra.

At eight o'clock on the nose, a short, heavyset woman walked in. She was wearing a bright red skirt with a matching ill-fitting suit jacket. She wore a ton of jewelery, including about twenty necklaces, rings on nearly every finger, and gaudy red earrings. Her face was caked with makeup, and she smelled as if she bathed in the perfume she was wearing. She looked just like a teacher everyone would be afraid of. Or at least avoid in the hopes of sparing their sense of smell.

However, as soon as she spoke I knew I would love her. "Hello, everyone. My name is Ms. Dolan. You can call me Cathy, though. I hate that whole 'Ms.' bullshit."

Everyone laughed nervously. Wow, swearing in the first minute. I really _was_ in college. Cathy passed out her syllabus and reviewed it with us. "Many of you probably haven't seen a syllabus before, but it will become standard for all of your classes. I've detailed all the basic class information, and a tentative schedule for the semester. Of course, the schedule is subject to change, because I am the boss and what I say goes."

More laughter, this time not as nervous. After going over what was expected of us, and giving us our first homework assignment (!), Cathy began the day's lesson. "To start, I'd like all of you to take out a piece of paper. I want to get your brain working, since I'm sure it's been on hiatus all summer. How many of you have heard of 'stream of conciousness'?" she asked.

Many of us, myself included, raised our hands. "Good, most of you. Well, for those of you that don't know, stream of conciousness is basically writing whatever comes into your head on a particular subject. It's just a steady stream of words, whether or not it relates entirely to the topic. You don't stop writing. So, I'm going to write a subject on the board and I would like you all to start writing. We'll go for about ten minutes today, but as this class progresses I'll keep extending the time." I noticed that she didn't have a regular chalkboard, but rather one of those white dry erase boards that you usually see in presentations. She picked up a black marker and wrote "COLLEGE" on the board. "Don't worry about staying on topic. That's not the point of the exercise, just write about whatever comes into your head by reading that word. Begin."

I wrote and wrote until my hand hurt but I didn't stop. I wrote all about how excited I was to start college, and how much I missed my family even though they drove me crazy. I was so into my writing I jumped when I heard, "Okay, time's up!" She had us hand them to her and told us she would read them that evening and give us comments tomorrow morning.

After class, I felt my stomach rumble and I started to head toward the cafeteria, which was actually on the bottom floor of our dorm building. As I was walking, I tripped on a break in the sidewalk and fell forward, landing completely sprawled out on the cement. I picked myself up just as soon as I fell, feeling my face turn bright red. I glanced around quickly to see if a lot of people had noticed. Luckily, everyone seemed to be too into their own world. I breathed a sigh of relief and kept walking – and slammed into someone.

"Hey!" I called out in surprise. Then I felt two hands grab my arms. I looked up straight into the face of a guy who appeared to be at least a senior, although he even looked a little older than that. He was tall and wiry, with mussed up brown hair and brown eyes. He had a thin, pointy nose and thin lips. Still, for some reason, I felt a warmth behind his eyes that made a shiver go up my spine.

"Hey there. Sorry about that, I wasn't looking where I was going. Are you all right?" His voice was kind and gentle.

"Y-yes," I stammered. "I'm fine." I started to walk away, but he was still holding on to my arms. "I'm fine," I repeated, a bit forcefully.

He dropped his arms, and stuck out his hand instead. "Stanley Stewart. Yes, I realize I have two first names. It's been lovingly brought up to me many times."

I giggled. "Mallory Pike," I said, shaking his hand. It was cold and clammy, but I gathered mine probably was too. Or maybe it was just me I was feeling.

"Well, Mallory, I'm sorry for running into you. You seem to be in a big hurry, are you late for a class?"

"No, I just finished," I replied, feeling myself relax a little bit. He was pretty easy to talk to, and he seemed nice enough.

"Ah…is this your first year at Cameron?"

"Yeah. Boy do I look that much like a freshman?"

"No, not really. You look fine. You just have the nervous aura of a freshman." He smiled, and gave me a little wink.

I could feel myself blush. Was he flirting with me? "What year are you?" I asked.

"Senior."

So he was a senior. Maybe he was just one of those guys that looked older than they really were. "That's nice, are you looking forward to graduating?"

"Yes, most definitely," he said, with an odd laugh. Then he gave me an intense look, one that actually made me back up a step. "What do you say we go get some breakfast? I feel just terrible for plowing into you like that, and I'd like to make it up to you. My car is just down there," he added, pointing.

I hesistated. For some reason, I could hear my mother saying "Never get in a car with a stranger." But, honestly, what could happen? His offer was geniune, and I had no reason to think he was a creep. Besides, we were smack dab in the middle of the college campus. "Sure," I said, trying not to sound as nervous as I felt.

Stanley took me by the arm and led me to his car. My heart was fluttering wildly in my chest. I was going to breakfast with a senior! I suddenly felt very cool and mature, and tried to act like it. I didn't want him to think I was a baby freshman. "Your car is nice," I commented, although his car was really only a beat up black Toyota Corolla.

He gave me a weird look. "Really? I think it's a piece of shit. But to each his own."

I pressed my lips together as I got inside. The car wasn't exactly neat. There were soda cans in both drink holders, and papers were tossed all over the passenger side. "Let me get that out of your way," Stanley said, as he threw everything in the back. "I wasn't expecting company."

"It's okay," I replied.

He started up the car and winked again. "I hope you're hungry. I know a great place."

* * *

"I'm stuffed!" I exclaimed as we headed back out to Stanley's car. "That food was amazing. I think those were the best pancakes I've ever had in my life!"

"I told you," Stanley said, coming up behind me. He stood so close to me our arms brushed each other.

"So, do you have any classes today?" I asked as he drove us back to campus.

He gave me a sideways glance. "Uh..yeah, I have one later. My schedule is pretty lax though, since I'm a senior. I only take the classes I want."

I nodded. I couldn't wait to start being able to pick my own classes. "I see."

Stanley parked along the side of the street and walked me to my dorm building. "Well, I don't think I've ever been so happy I ran into someone," he joked.

I could feel myself blushing again. I wasn't used to someone being so flirtatious. "Thanks, I had fun too." I hesitated, not sure if I should give him my number or just leave and hope to run into him again.

He doesn't allow me to debate for long. "I was hoping I could get your cell phone number. Maybe we can try dinner sometime."

My heart started to pound. My first date with a real college guy! "Sure!" I blurted out, a little too eagerly. I retrieved a pen from my backpack and wrote my number on his hand, since it seemed like a bold move. "Don't wash your hands," I said, trying to sound seductive, but probably sounding more like an asthmatic.

"I won't," he replied, chuckling. "It was nice to meet you, Mallory."

"Nice to meet you, Stanley."

"Call me Stan."

* * *

I practically waltzed back into my dorm building. Luckily, Sarah wasn't there when I returned so I didn't have to worry about facing her. I glanced at my alarm clock. 10:43. My next class was at eleven. Stan and I had taken a lot longer than I anticipated at breakfast. Unfortunately, my next class was College Algebra, so it was going to be really hard to concentrate since my head was filled with thoughts of a possible date with Stan. Where would he take me? What should I wear? Would he try to kiss me?

I grabbed my textbook (the only book I'd actually bought before class since there was no way around not needing the book) and a fresh notebook and stuffed them into my backpack. I studied my map before I left so I would know where I was headed. My class was far, located pretty much on the other side of campus.

The class was almost full when I arrived. This would probably be the only week that people would actually show up on time. I zoned out almost as soon as the teacher passed out his syllabus and started a basic review. I daydreamed about Stan the whole time, and honestly, I don't even think I could remember anything that happened in that class. An elephant could've trampled through and I would've been none the wiser.

After class I headed straight for the cafeteria, since I had plans to meet with Meghan and Betsy for lunch. I spotted them right away standing in line for the pasta station. Our cafeteria was actually really cool, and we had a bunch of different stations that you could have. There was a salad bar, a pasta station, a soup station, and the main food station. I wasn't feeling too hungry since I'd had such a big breakfast, so I just made myself a quick salad and found a table for us to sit at.

Betsy and Meghan joined me a few minutes later, each balancing a tray containing macaroni and cheese and a side of steamed broccoli. "Is that all you're eating?" Betsy asked when she saw my salad.

I nodded. "I had a huge breakfast."

Besty's eyes lit up. "Ooh, did you use the waffle maker? I've been dying to try it!"

I shook my head. "No…I went to eat off campus."

Meghan raised her eyebrows. "Did you go with someone?"

I could hardly keep the smile off my face. "Yeah, I went with a senior!"

"A senior!" Betsy shrieked. Several people turned to stare. "What's his name? Is he cute? Tell us details!"

Meghan gave her a playful shove. "Easy there, turbo."

"His name is Stan, and he's really nice. We literally ran into each other on campus."

"Sounds romantic," Betsy said. "So did he ask you out?"

"Yeah," I replied, blushing. "Well, sort of. He asked for my number and he suggested we go to dinner sometime."

"Aw, he sounds sweet," Meghan said. "I hope things will go well on your date."

"I don't even know if he's going to ask me. You know guys. They say they're going to call and they never do. He might have just been trying to be polite."

Betsy sighed. "Have you always been this pessimistic? The glass is half full! He wouldn't take you to breakfast _and_ ask you for number if he was just being 'polite.'"

"I agree," Meghan said, through a mouthful of macaroni. She swallowed. "Look, Mallory, you're a sweet girl. You shouldn't be so down on yourself. This guy obviously likes you, and he's a senior! So that means he's almost mature!"

We laughed at Meghan's joke. "I wish I could be rooming with you guys instead of Sarah," I said. It was weird how close I felt to the both of them despite only knowing them a few days. Maybe being thrown together in such a crazy situation brings people together like that in college. I know my mother had told me some of the best friends she made were in college. I was glad that I had them around.

"Did you put in a request for a new roomate?" Betsy asked.

"Not yet, because I was so nervous about classes. Once I was settled I was planning on telling them she smoked and that I requested a non-smoker."

We all laughed again, since I'd already told them about what I'd overhead. "Serves her right," remarked Meghan.

After lunch we parted ways. Meghan was going to the bookstore, and Betsy had a one o'clock class to get to. Lucky for me, my next class wasn't until three so I had a few hours to relax.

As I took the elevator back up to my room, my cell phone rang. I didn't recognize the number but I picked up anyway. "Hello?"

"Hello, may I speak to Mallory Pike?" a familiar male voice asked.

"Speaking."

"Hey Mallory, it's Stan. Sorry to call so soon. I don't want you to think I'm a stalker or anything, but I haven't stopped thinking about you since breakfast."

My heart fluttered. "It's okay, I've been thinking about you too," I said honestly.

"That's good, so at least I'm not bothering you. Listen, I was wondering if you were free on Friday night. I'd love to take you out to dinner. I know of another good place," he said, laughing nervously. "You know, you stay in this town for so many years and you get to know all the best places to eat."

"I'd love to go out on Friday!"

"Great, do you to meet in your dorm's lobby at around seven?"

"Sound's good," I said, frantically trying to come up with a decent outfit in my mind. Maybe I could convince Meghan and Betsy to go shopping with me.

"It's a date then. See you Friday." We hung up.

I did a little dance in the elevator until it shook and I stopped, for fear that I would make it get stuck between floors. Even getting stuck in an elevator wouldn't spoil my good mood. Friday was going to be just perfect, I was going to make sure of that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

"You look lovely," Stan said to me as he led me outside. I was wearing a black A-line skirt with small yellow flowers on it and a pale yellow blouse. Betsy had helped me pick the outfit out from items I surprisingly owned. I told her I looked like a bumblebee. She told me I looked fine.

"Not like a bee?" I asked, feeling stupid. Why can't I just learn to accept a compliment instead of following it up with an insult?

Stan gazed at me. "Not like a bee at all. I don't think anyone would shoo you away."

I smiled, even though it was kind of a corny line to say. Still, it was sweet. Stan took my hand in his, and suddenly I felt like I was floating on air.

I wasn't quite sure what to expect from the evening. I wasn't sure if he considered us to be dating yet, or just seeing where things went. Stan drove us to a Mexican restaurant called El Sol. We were seated rather quickly, and I spent the next few minutes studying my menu intensely, trying to appear deep in thought as to my dinner choice. I pretty much decided instantly I wanted cheese enchiladas, but I was too nervous to start a conversation. I hadn't been on a date in a long time. In fact, I don't think I've ever been on a date. My "dates" with Ben mainly consisted of meeting up at the mall or the movies. It wasn't the "he picks you up and takes you to a nice restaurant" kind of date.

"Have you decided?" Stan asked then, breaking my thoughts.

_Cheese enchiladas_. "There's so much to choose from," I said aloud, wondering why I was so nervous. I'd eaten with Stanley before, and we'd chatted on the phone several times since our breakfast.

"The burritos are fantastic here, if I can make the recommendation." He caught our waiter's eye, who was hovering nearby.

I snapped my menu shut. "Actually, I think I'm going to try the cheese enchiladas."

He blinked, as if he didn't understand what I said. "Oh, okay."

After ordering, Stan reached across the table and took my hand. "I'm glad you decided to come out with me tonight. I was a little nervous about it, to be honest with you."

"Me too!" I exclaimed loudly. At least I wasn't the only one.

That revelation seemed to make the conversation flow then, and we talked about our family lives and interests. Well, I did. Maybe I was babbling out of nervousness, but Stan remained mostly quiet while I told him about my brothers and sisters, and my love of writing, horses, and drawing.

"Is it hard to tell your brothers apart?" he asked.

"Not really," I said, finally feeling comfortable. "I usually just draw different shapes on their hands to help me out."

Stan laughed. "Do you really?"

"No. Actually, their personalities are totally different. Aside from that, they do have some distinct features that make it easy to tell them apart. You know, once you've been around them it becomes pretty obvious."

"I don't have any brothers or sisters," Stan said, giving me the first real tidbit about himself. "I can imagine there was never a dull moment at your house."

"That's putting it mildly," I agreed.

Our waiter came with our food then, and my mouth literally watered at the sight of my enchiladas. I had been too wound up to eat all day and suddenly I was ravenous. I didn't want to seem like a total pig though, so I took dainty bites of my enchiladas even though I practically wanted to stuff a whole one in my mouth.

"It's too bad you didn't get their burritos," Stan commented. "Next time, I guess."

Next time! He was planning on taking me out again! "Sounds like a plan, Stan," I said, then starting giggling uncontrollably.

I guess the sight of me snorting while trying to keep my food in my mouth was pretty funny because pretty soon we were both laughing hysterically.

"Wow," I wheezed, wiping a tear from my eye. "I can't even remember why I started laughing!" Which of course gave me the giggles again.

Once we'd finally calmed down, our waiter came to take our plates and left the bill. I pretended to reach for my purse, although I didn't really expect to pay. Don't guys usually pay for the first dates?

"It's my treat," Stan said, reaching for the check. See?

We walked out into the balmy night air. "Thanks for dinner," I said.

"Thank you for the wonderful company," Stan said, putting his hand gently on the small of my back. I shivered. "Are you cold?"

"No," I replied, giving him my most flirtatious smile.

It must've worked. "Did you want to walk around some more before I drop you off?" Stan asked, looking at me intently.

"Sure."

We walked the length of the street, holding hands the whole time. It started to feel more natural for me. I realized I didn't want the night to end. It felt nice to be so close to someone, to feel their body heat and not have to exchange any words.

After awhile, my shoes started to hurt. I had on a pair of black sandals, and although it was a pretty low heel (at least compared to what I see the girls around here wearing) I wasn't used to heels. "Do you mind if we go back now? My feet kind of hurt," I said, somewhat sheepishly. I felt so dumb.

The tiniest flicker of anger flashed over his face. Maybe he had some sort of surprise planned and I was ruining it. But as soon as it came, it passed, and it was instantly forgotten. "Sure," he replied. "Let's go."

* * *

I hate the awkward moments before the inevitable end-of-date kiss where you're trying to ease into the moment seamlessly the way they do in the movies. 

"Thanks again for a lovely time," I said, as we pulled up by my dorm building. I made the motion to reach for the door handle, hoping he would stop me.

"Mallory?" Stan asked. "Would you mind if I kissed you?"

Mind? Was he crazy? _Yes_! My brain shouted. "I would like that," I said casually.

He slid closer to me and brought his lips gently down on mine. It was a chaste kiss. It lasted all of a minute, but that minute seemed to melt into a wonderful dreamland that swept me up and made my heart pound.

When we broke apart, he was smiling broadly. "Sweet dreams," he said.

I don't really remember if I replied or just nodded like an idiot. I hurried back into my dorm room and quickly changed. I wanted to get to sleep as soon as possible. I intended to make Stan proud and have sweet dreams that night.

* * *

"So when do we get to meet this mystery guy of yours?" Betsy asked as she took her plate of lo mein from the cafeteria server. 

"I don't know," I answered. "Maybe we can all meet up for lunch sometime. I'm sure he wouldn't mind eating in our cafeteria."

"Well you've been on cloud nine all week," added Meghan, handing her ID card to the cashier to swipe. "I want to see who's made you so happy."

"You'll meet him," I said. "I'll ask him when he's available."

I didn't want to tell them that I wasn't sure if I wanted them to meet. My relationship with Stan was still new, and I didn't want to introduce him to my friends just yet. What if he liked them better than me? They were certainly prettier. Betsy had gorgeous curls that didn't resemble cotton candy, and sparkling blue eyes. Meghan was tall and willowy, with hair I'd kill for. To top it off she had a really nice smile and great skin.

Was I being too paranoid? Probably. I've heard it all before. If a guy really likes you, then you shouldn't care about other people. I couldn't help but feel it wasn't fair, though, this whole thing we call genetics. I certainly didn't ask for unruly hair, or freckles, or to have to wear braces. My whole life has been nothing but hearing things like "Wow, you don't look anything like your family! Are you sure you're all really related, or was someone fooling around with the milkman?" Not only did it make me feel even more like a troll than I already did, but it was insulting to my mother's faitfulness.

"Make sure you let us know," Becky said as we walked through the sea of tables. "We'll clear our schedules."

"I will," I replied, feeling uneasy.

"I can't believe you're still rooming with Sarah," commented Meghan, finally spotting a open table and making a beeline for it. We all followed after her and plopped our trays down. Sometimes things can get pretty territorial in the cafeteria.

"She's hardly ever around," I said, twirling some lo mein around my fork and waving it around as I spoke. "I never thought I'd say this, but she's like the perfect roomate."

"Except for the fact that she's a bitch," Betsy said bluntly.

"Well, yeah that too. But I pretty much have my own room. Why should I complain?"

"I guess if it's not a bother anymore, then it's your choice," Meghan said. I saw her exchange a glance with Betsy, but I ignored it.

"So are we still going tonight?" I asked, eager to change the subject. We had made plans to go to a local hangout that night called The Corner. I wouldn't exactly call it a club, since we were in such a small town, but it was close. Not to mention it was eighteen and over, which was perfect for us. I was a little hesitant, but I was trying to remain open-minded. After all, isn't this what college is all about?

"Definitely," Betsy said, her blue eyes regaining their sparkle. "Now you better let us hoochie you out. And no offense, you don't really own anything in that category, so you're borrowing clothes from me. We're almost the same size."

"Yeah, except you actually have boobs," I muttered, looking down at my chest. Okay, so I wasn't exactly as bad as Kristy, but still.

Betsy gave me a look, one that clearly said "You talk badly about yourself one more time and I'll hurt you." Out loud she told me, "Anyway, I already have something in mind for you. We're meeting up with David, too." David was a guy in Betsy's Russian Literature class that she absolutely adored, though she'd never admit it. She swore up and down they were "just friends" like she was a celebrity or something.

After we ate, we went in the elevator and took it to our floor. "Come to our room so you can try on my clothes," Betsy said to me as we got off the elevator.

I followed her and groaned inwardly as I noticed who was coming down the hall. Sarah.

"Well if it isn't the Three Musketeers," she sneered. She was walking with another girl on our floor named Heather, who was every bit as pretty as she was. Do pretty people feel the need to stick together?

"Shut up, Sarah," Meghan retorted as we walked past.

"I wasn't talking to you beanpole," she snapped, spinning around to face us.

"Didn't you just call us the 'Three Musketeers'?" I asked. "Which would mean all three of us. That's one, two, three. Come on, you can do it. You have more than that many fingers on your hand. You won't even have to go to your toes like you usually do." I don't know where the words came from, they just spilled out. Sarah was just as surprised as I was, and was momentarily silenced, her mouth open in shock.

Meghan and Betsy were snickering behind me. "Yeah, that's what I thought," I continued. "I must've used too many big words for you. Come on, guys." I turned and walked down the hall quickly. Betsy and Meghan hurried to catch up with me.

"Okay, where the hell did _that_ come from?" demanded Betsy.

"Perfect roomate, huh?" Meghan added.

We burst into their room and I flung myself on the bed. "I can't believe I just did that you guys! What the hell was I thinking? She's probably going to send Jason after me!"

"Who?" Betsy asked.

"Nothing."

"Look, Mal, I think what you did was awesome! She had it coming. I bet she'll think twice before she makes fun of you again," Meghan said, opening one of her drawers and pulling out a short black skirt.

A slow smile spread over my face. "I guess you're right," I said. Suddenly I was beyond excited to go to The Corner. "Now, Betsy, I believe you have some hoochie clothes for me to wear."

Betsy laughed. "That's my girl!" she exclaimed, throwing back the curtain to her closet. She stepped inside and rummaged through and emerged with an armful of clothes. "Okay," she said, dumping them on her bed. She pulled out a red shimmery tank top and a white miniskirt. Or, as I preferred to call it, underwear.

"I don't think this will even cover my butt," I mumbled, taking the items in my hands.

Becky rolled her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. Change," she ordered, pointing to her closet.

Meghan let out a wolf whistle when I stepped outside, self conciously tugging the skirt down. I wasn't even aware people made things that covered this little skin and still called them clothes. I felt like a streetwalker.

"You look great!" Meghan shouted.

"I thought redheads weren't supposed to wear red," I said, yanking at my hair.

"It's pink. Now stop making excuses. This is what you're wearing tonight," Betsy said, coming up close to me and adjusting the straps on my tank top. "Did you want me to straighten your hair? I'm really good at it."

"Sure," I replied, deciding to adopt a "what-the heck" attitude. "You guys can do what you want to me. And not in that way."

"Don't be gross, Mallory," Meghan groaned.

An hour later, even I had to admit I looked pretty good. Betsy had practically steamed my hair with her flat iron, and applied plenty of makeup. Meghan was putting the finishing touches on her hair, and Betsy was busily applying her own makeup.

When we were all ready, Betsy made us all admire ourselves in the mirror. "Look at us. We look hot, ladies. Tonight is going to be a blast!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Call me naïve, but I guess I wasn't exactly sure what to expect when we went to The Corner. I was picturing a small dance floor with a few people standing around, sipping casually at their drinks while others bumped hips on the dance floor.

What I got was a place much larger than I'd expected, that was completely packed with people while the music pumped so loud you could feel it in the pit of your stomach. It was dark and smoky, and the only illumation was flashing colored lights that would allow a brief glimpse at the sea of people gyrating around.

The dance floor wasn't enormous, but that didn't stop the hundreds of scantily clad girls from rubbing up against either their friends or what appeared to be random boys who would approach them frrom behind, trying to get in sync with their dancing. The dances I was used to weren't quite this wild. The people appeared to literally be humping each other right there for the world to see. I turned to Betsy, and the look on my face must have been sheer terror, because she laughed and threw her arm around me. "Aw Mal, don't worry. It'll be fun, trust me. We just have to get you loosened up!"

We each had to pay ten dollars just to get in, which seemed like a rip off to me. I pushed my way through a small crowd that was forming by the entrance. I was already starting to feel hot and sticky, which made me fear for my hair. Sure it was straight now, but typically my hair did not react well to humidity. I ran my hand uneasily down the length of my hair and scanned the room for Betsy and Meghan, whom I'd already managed to lose in the craziness.

I felt a tug on my arm and finally saw that Meghan was pulling me away. "Come on, Mallory." She took me over to the bar.

"We're not going to buy drinks, are we?" I asked her, suddenly worried that that they had a fake ID and we'd get busted. I pictured calling my mother from the slammer, explaining to her that I'd managed to get thrown in jail for my first big night out.

"No, silly, we're not old enough." I breathed a sigh of relief. "We're just going to have to get some guys to buy our drinks." She gave me a coy look.

"What does that mean?" I wondered, probably sounding like an inexperienced baby.

"Catch someone's eye, and when he comes over to make conversation, then flirt until he offers to buy you a drink. It's easy. Watch." Meghan motioned for me to follow her, and I stared at the way she walked, a confident walk that made her hips move from side to side. She strode up to the bar, which wasn't too crowded, and sat down. It seemed most people were already on the dance floor. The man behind the counter asked her if she wanted a drink, and she laughed as she said, "Maybe in a minute."

She patted the stool next her and I sat down, making sure my skirt didn't ride up, although there wasn't much you could do to stop five inches of material. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating on the length of the skirt but it was still too short. "Where's Betsy?" I asked, then quickly spotted her with David, dancing like she was lost in her own world.

"See those two guys over there?" Meghan whispered to me. I followed her gaze to two guys that looked a bit older than us. One of them was tall and blond and appeared to be eyeing Meghan too. The other was shorter, with reddish brown hair.

"Meg, I'm not sure if I should be talking to other guys. What would Stan think?"

Even in the darkness, I could see Meghan rolling her eyes. "Mallory, you're not married to the guy. We're just having fun."

I nodded numbly, still feeling a litte uneasy. "So what do we do?"

"Just follow my lead," she said, finally catching the guy's eye and giving him a dazzling smile. Maybe if I was as pretty as Meghan I could pull that off. I did my best to catch the eye of his friend but he appeared to be watching some girl on the dance floor who's skirt was shorter than mine, if possible. Plus, her legs weren't covered in freckles.

I saw the blond grab his friend's arm and discreetly point in our direction. Meghan giggled. "We've got them," she said. "Now we just flirt and let them buy us drinks."

I started to say that I didn't really want to drink, but I didn't want to be a party pooper. The truth was my thoughts were drifting to Stan. What if he was at some bar this very minute hitting on some pretty girl buying her drinks? Maybe if he does it, then I shouldn't worry so much. Like Meghan said, we were just having fun. I threw my head back and tried to appear confident as the boys approached us.

"Hey," the blond said as they made their way over. "How are you ladies doing tonight?"

"Great. What are your names?" Meghan asked, winking at the blond.

"My name is Adam, and this is my friend Roger. What's your name?" he asked Meghan.

"Meghan, and this is Mallory," she said, nudging me.

I smiled at them, and Roger finally seemed to notice me and came over to the other side of me. "Hey, what's up, Mallory?"

"Nothing." I glanced helplessly at Meghan, who was already bent close to Adam, giggling. A moment later I saw him contact the bartender and get drinks for the both of them. She made it look so easy. I turned my attention to Roger and tried to do the same. "So do you come here often?" I asked, then cringed. Talk about a cliché line!

"My buddy and I come here all the time. Haven't seen you around though, and I'm sure I'd remember that," he replied, smiling at me.

Yeah, it's not every day you see Bozo's sister walking around half naked, I wanted to say. Instead I said, "Well, I guess I'll just have to make sure you don't forget me, then."

He raised his eyebrows at me and asked me if I wanted a drink. I was almost floored. It worked! I had officially scored my first free drink! "Of course," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. He ordered us two whiskey shots, and suddenly my elation turned to worry. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

"Ready?" he asked. I watched as he tilted his head back and gulped the drink, slamming the shot glass down when he was done. "Aw, you don't like Jack's?"

I had no idea what he was talking about, so I just threw my head back and tried to not focus on the horrible taste as the whiskey went down my throat. I slammed my glass down, and put my hand to my chest. It tasted _awful_, like it was coating my throat. "Ugh," I said, swallowing several times to try to get rid of the flavor.

"Want another?" he asked, his eyes gleaming.

I caught Meghan's eye, as she finished doing her own shot. She smiled at me, as if to say "See? It's not so bad." I felt a little light headed, but I was starting to feel more comfortable. "Sure!" I exclaimed, trying to get into the whole scene.

This time the shot went a little easier down my throat, and I laughed as I slammed the glass on the counter. "Wanna dance?" he asked, taking my hand.

Before I could really formulate an answer, I was smushed in a sea of people, getting bumped from all sides as the music rang in my ears. I was starting to feel really wobbly, but oddly, it felt fantastic. I felt myself let go, just feeling the music as I threw my hands in the air and moved closer to Roger. He grabbed my waist, and danced so close I could feel he was getting…excited. Any immediate uneasiness was washed away as a song I actually recognized started playing and I shrieked and looked for Meghan and Betsy. As soon as I found them I pulled them to me. "I love this song! Let's dance!" I yelled. We gathered in a cirlce and started dancing like crazy, and for awhile I was aware that our three dance partners were watching us, entranced as we grabbed each other by the hands and danced with each other. Soon after the guys all joined us and all danced in a huge group.

The room was starting to spin but before long I felt too happy to care. "Let's do another shot," I suggested to Roger. His eyes lit up and I grabbed Betsy and Meghan along with me. The six of us (Adam and David included) each downed another whiskey shot and were back on the dance floor. I was pretty sure the bartenders knew we weren't old enough, but I realized that as long as someone was buying that was, they probably didn't care. The third shot sent a wave of euphoria over me that just made me completely forget about any worries I'd ever had about coming here. How I could I possibly not want to go and have fun and dance with my friends?

I stumbled over to Meghan and slurred, "I'm so glad you made us talk to those guys. Roger is so _hot_." I realized at this point that I was probably very drunk. I wondered for a moment why my mother had told me that day we drove to Cameron how horrible it was to be drunk. This felt fabulous! What was she talking about?

"I'm so glad you're having fun!" she shouted over the noise. "We should come here every weekend!" Adam came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist.

"We should come here every _night_!" I yelled, and we laughed hysterically.

"Hey you," I heard someone huskily whisper in my ear. For a split second, I feared it was Stan and that he would be mad I didn't tell him where I'd be. But when I turned around, all I saw was Roger with an odd look on his face. I didn't get a chance to analyze it because a second later he grabbed me and gave me a sloppy kiss. While under normal circumstances I probably would've been slightly grossed out, I was feeling looser by the minute so I threw everything I had into kissing him back.

I didn't even care that we were standing where other people could see. I just lost myself in the moment and kissed him for what seemed like hours. I was pretty sure I could hear Betsy yell "Go Mallory!" but at that point things were starting to get really hazy.

When we finally pulled apart I could see my lipstick smeared all over his face. "So can I call you sometime?" he asked, standing so close his breath tickled my ear.

"You better," I told him. I whispered my cell phone number in his ear, completely aware that he would probably forget in two minutes.

Soon after Betsy was pulling me back on the dance floor. There was a rap song playing that I didn't recognize, but I danced like I knew anyway. Meghan and Betsy seemed to know the song, because they were shouting something about it being some short person's birthday. I may not have known the song, but I knew I was having an absolute blast. "Thanks so much for convincing me to go here!" I yelled to Betsy.

She smiled. "I knew you'd have fun once you loosened up!" she yelled back.

After dancing for awhile I started to feel really hot. I felt sweat dripping down my face and I was pretty sure my hair was a frizzed out mess. "Let's get some fresh air!" I said to Betsy, who nodded and tugged Meghan by the arm. Reluctantly, she stopped dancing with Adam and followed us outside.

"Whew!" I exclaimed as I felt the cool breeze on my face. "That's so much better!" I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Meghan was trying to motion something to Betsy. "What's up, Meg?"

She glanced at us, a gleam in her eye. "Adam's got weed," she whispered excitedly. "Do you guys want to smoke?"

I exchanged a glance with Betsy. "I've never smoked marijuana before," I admitted. "Or anything else for that matter."

"It's okay, we don't have to if you don't want to," Meghan said, looking a little disappointed.

For some reason, my curiousity was piqued. "What's it like?" I asked.

"It's fun," Betsy said. "It makes you feel so giddy. You become fascinated by the weirdest things. Last weekend, Meghan and I smoked in our room and I was just _staring_ at this candle we had going. Like, the flame just intrigued me."

"Let's do it then," I said, still feeling happy and drunk. How bad could it be?

"Great!" Meghan squealed. "I'll go tell Adam, you guys wait here. He said we could just do it in his car."

A few minutes later the five of us (David was nowhere to be found, much to Betsy's dismay) were walking to Adam's car. He and Roger sat in the front, while Betsy, Meghan and I crammed ourselves in the back. Adam pulled out a small plastic bag filled with green clumpy things. "We got a book in here or something?" he asked Roger.

A math book was retrieved from under the passenger seat and Adam spread the contents of the bag on the book, using his hands to break the green clumps into smaller pieces. He grabbed a small square of white paper from a packet that was clipped to his sun visor, and slowly filled it with the marijuana. He sealed it and then twisted one end. I'd seen joints on TV before, but for some reason I thought they came that way. I didn't know you had to make them yourself.

"Puff, puff, pass," Roger said, which made everyone laugh but me. I joined in after, not getting the joke but not wanting to feel left out.

Adam lit the joint up, inhaled deeply, and then exhaled a moment later. The car started to fill with smoke and an odd smell.

Roger took his turn, followed by Meghan, then Betsy. Finally, Betsy handed the joint to me, and I took it, trying to mimic what I'd seen them do. As soon as I started to smoke it felt like the back of my throat was on fire and I started to pull it away. Betsy held my hand firm. "Keep it there," she instructed. "This is her first time, guys," she informed the others. Great, now they knew I was a rookie. Betsy told me to keep going, even though it felt like a hole was being burned in my throat. "Now inhale, just suck in your breath really quick," she said. I did so, and immediately started coughing. Smoke came out of my mouth in puffs, and everyone laughed. I laughed too. Who cared if I didn't know how to smoke? I still felt great, albeit a little woozy.

We went another round, the second time being a lot easier for me than the first. I still coughed, but so did Meghan so I didn't feel so bad. "Sometimes it happens with weed. Everyone coughs, especially if it's a really good hit," she told me.

When the first joint was finished Adam made another one. I was starting to understand what Betsy had been telling me earlier. I felt as if my senses were heightened, and I became aware of everything around me. The voices seemed to come louder and sharper and I stared at the back of the driver's seat seeing a small burn hole. Was it from a cigarette? I didn't know, but I wanted to reach out and touch it. I was so busy playing with the hole I didn't notice Betsy was practically shoving the joint in my mouth.

"You're so fucked up right now, Mallory," she said, giggling. I took my hit and passed it back to Adam. Suddenly I understood what Roger had meant earlier when he'd said "puff, puff, pass" because that was what we were doing. This struck me as absolutely hilarious, and I laughed until I nearly felt I was going to pass out.

"What is so funny, Mal?" Meghan asked, laughing even though she didn't know why.

"Puff, puff, pass!" I gasped. "I _get_ it!"

Of course, everyone found this just as hysterical as I did. We were all laughing so hard the car started to rock back and forth, which made us laugh harder. I was pretty sure I was going to pee my pants if I didn't get out of there. I'd had a lot of alcohol that night too. I wondered if it was okay to smoke considering I'd already had some drinks.

"I gotta pee you guys!" I yelled. Roger told me to wait until we were finished, so I impatiently pressed my legs together until the second joint was finished, then practically flew out of the car to find the nearest bathroom.

Meghan and Betsy caught up to me and we giggled in the ladies room while we all went. "This has been the best night ever," I said, aware that I was probably yelling.

"Mal, I'm so glad you smoked with us. Now we can do it in our room too!" Meghan said excitedly. "Let's go back out there and find our men!"

I noticed Betsy looked a little down and realized she probably felt left out since she couldn't find David. "What time is it?" she asked Meghan.

"Almost two," Meghan replied.

Two in the morning! I'd never stayed out that late before. "Wow, it's like practically tomorrow!" I shouted, laughing again.

"It _is_ tomorrow dumbass," she shouted back. We both looked like fools.

We decided to head back to our dorms, but not before Meghan and Adam shared a major kiss and exchanged numbers. Roger was giving me a leery glance. "Don't forget to call me, babe," he slurred.

"Um, I gave _you_ my number," I reminded him, not really caring. To be honest I didn't really expect to talk to him ever again unless we ran into each other here. I had Stan, and that was all I needed for the moment. Besides, I really wanted to leave. My stomach was starting to feel funny.

We finally bustled outside, still stumbling around like morons. The earth felt like it was spinning. It felt like Meghan and Betsy were talking to me, but their voices sounded muffled. "I don't feel so good," I said, feeling like my tongue was made of sandpaper.

"Oh, she's gonna be sick Bets," I heard Meghan say. Then I puked all over the sidewalk. It was completely miserable. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, feeling like I was going to be sick again, but nothing happened.

"Can you walk?" asked Betsy.

I nodded, and Meghan propped me up under her shoulder and helped me up. We had walked about a block when I felt queasy again. This time I couldn't give a warning before I rushed to the side of the street and got sick again. Why on earth had I had so much to drink? Why had I smoked weed? Why had I done all of the stupid things I swore I wouldn't do?

We reached our dorm and I weakly climbed into the elevator. The sudden jerk of the elevator as it lifted us up was enough to make me gag. I clutched my stomach, willing myself not to get sick until we at least got off. As soon as the doors opened I made a mad dash to the bathroom. No wonder my mother had told me not to get drunk. This was quite possibly the worst feeling I'd ever had in my life, even worse than mono. Why would anyone willingly do this?

Betsy was waiting outside for me when I walked out. "Come on, let's get you changed. What the hell did you and Meghan drink? She just went in there herself."

"I think we had a couple of shots," I mumbled.

"More than one?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever drank before?"

"Nope."

"Oh, Mallory. Look, just a word of advice: if you've never drank before don't let your induction night be a bunch of shots. Well, I guess it's too late for that. Come on," she said, taking my hand and guiding me down the hall. She unlocked my door for me while I held myself up using the wall.

"Where are your pajamas?" she asked. I pointed, and she pulled out a pair of gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt. "Okay, out of my clothes."

I managed to dress myself and climbed miserably into bed. My stomach still felt awful, but thankfully, I think I was done puking for the night. My head throbbed and it felt like my ears were stuffed with cotton.

"You're a good friend," I said wearily.

"Don't worry about it. Just sleep it off. Next time, I'll make sure you don't get so out of hand, I promise."

"There won't be a next time," I muttered. "I'm never drinking again."

Betsy laughed softly. "You say that now, but guaranteed you'll be drinking again." With that she let herself out of my room, shutting off the light and closing the door behind her.

I stared at my ceiling in the darkness. Who was she kidding? I certainly had no plans on making myself feel like this ever again. I'd had one crazy night, and as far as I was concerned, that was enough for me.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Just wanted to let everyone know that I'm going to be moving within the next week. It's a cross country move, so it may take some time before I'm settled enough to begin writing again. Also, I'm planning on having the story take a slightly darker tone soon, so this may be my last chapter to be funny (or attempt to at least.) Many thanks to those who've read, reviewed, or added me to their Favorite Author/Alert list. It's a huge compliment! Hope you all enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Six**

Betsy wasn't kidding.

During the next month we started to go out at least four times a week. The Corner became a regular hangout spot for us, so much so that the workers knew us. The also knew we were underaged and drinking, and I don't think they cared.

Stan, on the other hand, certainly seemed to care. "Mallory, I don't want you going out so often. If you need alcohol that badly, you can drink with me." We were eating lunch at a nearby restaurant. For some reason Stan hated eating on campus.

"Stan, that's not it," I told him dismissively. "It's just the atmosphere. It's fun to be there and dance and have fun with my friends."

"You mean it's fun to rub up on a different guy every night?"

"I don't even dance with guys," I told him defensively. That was actually true. I had more fun being silly dancing with Meghan and Betsy than having some random guy try to feel me up. It was uncomfortable, especially knowing that Stan trusted me.

"Look Mal, I think I've been pretty patient. I know you're in college and I remember when I was in…when I was a freshman. The point is that you're being irresponsible. I don't like you drinking every night. How are you getting your work done if you're too busy partying?" He gave me a disapproving look.

"My school work is fine," I lied. Okay, now that wasn't true. The fact of the matter was, I was behind on all of my classes, and I hadn't gone to my English class in over a week. I guess having an early class that I loved wasn't the greatest motivation if you were hungover from the night before.

"Well, can you at least tone it down? For me?" He gave me a puppy dog face that I couldn't ignore.

"Okay," I agreed. "I guess you're right. Maybe I have been getting out of control lately."

"Good," he replied, apparently pleased. "So now, what do you want to do tonight?"

I gulped. I had already made plans with Betsy and Meghan to go to the Corner. I didn't think he would expect me to cut down right away. It _was_ Friday, after all. That was usually the best day to go. I licked my lips nervously. "Umm…well I was kinda going to the Corner tonight…" I stopped when I saw Stan's eyes flash angrily. "…but of course I can change my plans," I said quickly.

"That's my girl," Stan said, patting my arm. "Now, why don't you come over at around seven, and I will have dinner ready for us." He signaled to our waitress that we were ready to get the check even though I still had half a sandwich on my plate.

I gobbled down as much as I could before she snatched my plate away. I would sometimes get annoyed at Stan's controlling behavior. As sweet as he was, I felt he would often try to tell me what to do or how to behave. I felt like the age difference played a big role in our issues, as if he thought I wasn't mature enough to be with him.

Still, the moments that he said nice things to me or took me out to romantic dinners usually canceled them all out. He would always tell me how beautiful I was, or how much he enjoyed spending time with me. Our intimate times together never felt forced; and he was extremely patient. He knew I wasn't the most experienced girl, and sometimes I'm sure he wondered what the hell I was doing. I had started purchasing _  
Cosmopolitan_ magazine, and would read it religiously since it had a lot of articles on how to please a guy. Some of the titles alone would make me blush, like "How to Become a Sex Goddess!" or "The Best of Kama Sutra!". I didn't even know what that last article meant until I asked Betsy and she desribed it in great detail, using her pillow for a full visual effect. She also asked me if I wanted to borrow her book, which I politely declined, given that her charades had nearly given me nightmares.

Stan dropped me off back at campus and planted a kiss on the end of my nose. "I'll see you tonight," he said, rubbing his nose against mine.

"See you tonight," I echoed, feeling a knot in the pit of my stomach. I was pretty sure Betsy and Meghan would be upset that I was bailing on them at the last minute. I marched directly to their room and decided I might as well get it over with.

"Hey, Mal!" Meghan exclaimed. She held up a turquoise top that was pretty much a small square of material in the front and two strings in the back. "Look at this top I got for tonight! Crazy, huh?"

"Yeah, it's nice. Listen, about tonight…I don't think I can make it."

"Why?" she asked, looking concerned. "Are you not feeling okay?"

She gave me a window. I could take it, or I could tell her the truth. I sighed. "No, I'm feeling fine. It's just Stan and I haven't really spent much time together lately, and he wanted to have a quiet dinner tonight."

She shrugged her shoulders. "Oh okay," she said. "No big deal."

"You're not mad?" I ventured.

"No, not really. I mean, we kinda have been going out a lot. To be honest, I was wondering why you hadn't said anything before. I just figured you guys were having problems and you wanted to get away from him."

I frowned. I guess I had been ignoring Stan a lot, which made me feel terrible. I didn't want to send a message that we were unhappy, because as far as I was concerned, things were great between us. "Yeah, so I think I'll just chill with him tonight, but for sure we'll still go tomorrow."

"That's cool. Have fun tonight…be bad if you need to be," she said, giving me a mischevious smile. "Did you try that trick you read about in _Cosmo_?"

I blushed. "Not yet. Maybe I'll go for it tonight, who knows?" I glanced around the room. "Betsy's at class right?"

"Yeah, her one o'clock. Poly sci, I think. Anyway, don't worry I'll let her know about the change of plans."

"Thanks for being so understanding, Meg."

"I know you gotta keep men satisfied, so it's all good."

I headed back to my room, feeling better. I was happy that Meghan wasn't upset with me. I started to get excited about spending the evening with Stan. We still hadn't had sex yet; I had told Stan I was a virgin and he told me he would wait until I was ready. Maybe tonight would be our night. I got shivers just thinking about it. As I went to turn the lock I noticed a sock tied around the doorknob. Now who would put that there?

I unlocked my door and swung it open, completely startled to find Sarah naked in bed with Jeremy (I think), straddling him as she thrust forward and back. "Sorry!" I blurted out, then lamely slammed the door.

"Mallory, you bitch!" she shouted from the other side. "Didn't you even see the fucking sock I tied to the door knob?"

I didn't answer and instead rushed right back into Meghan's room. "I just walked in on my roomate having sex!"

Meghan was seated at her desk, actually starting to get some studying done. She looked up in surprise. "At one-forty in the afternoon? Wow. Didn't she tie something to the door to warn you? She probably would forget."

Okay, where exactly did one go to learn _that_ was the secret code for "I'm having sex?" Was there some other college orientation that I wasn't aware of? Do you go there and they have seminars like _How to Get Through Class with a Hangover_ and _Having Sex While Sharing aRoom: Tips You Need to Know_? I didn't understand. "No, there was a sock tied to the door knob. I wondered what it was, but I'd never heard of doing that before, so I just walked in."

"Oh," Meghan replied quietly. "Well, if you want you can hang out in here until she's…finished."

"Thanks," I mumbled, once again feeling completely immature. Well, there went yet another thing I found out about college the hard way.

* * *

I knocked on Stan's door. His apartment was not too far from the main campus. He'd told me that he hated dorm life and vowed that by his senior year he would try to save up to get his own place. He said he much preferred living on his own than having to share a room with someone. Boy, did I ever understand that.

I had chosen my clothes carefully for the evening: I had settled on dark gray pants and a magenta flowered top. I blow dried my hair and borrowed Betsy's flat iron to straighten it. I didn't do nearly as good a job as she did, but it looked nice enough. I applied the makeup myself, which I was getting better at. My eyeliner still came out a little crooked, but I was pretty sure Stan wouldn't mind or would even notice.

Stan opened the door, dressed in khakis and an olive green long sleeved shirt. He was wearing gold wire rimmed glasses, and for a brief second, he looked like he could be my father's age. As soon as he took his glasses off and flashed me his smile, the thought immediately melted away. "Hey! You look great!" he said, stepping aside to let me in.

I inhaled deeply. It smelled wonderful in his apartment. "Wow, it smells good in here, what's for dinner?"

"Steak and roasted potatoes."

"Yum," I replied. I followed him into the kitchen. "Did you need any help?"

"No, I'm almost done. Why don't you watch TV for just a little bit?"

Ten minutes later, we were seated at his dining room table. Well, it wasn't really a dining room. It was pretty much the patch of carpet that was between the living room and the kitchen that was just big enough for his round table that had four chairs. He had drapped a dark red tablecloth over it and placed two long red candles in silver holders. He lit them and brought our plates to the table. He set the plates down and even pulled my chair out for me so I could sit.

"This is all so wonderful!" I gushed.

After dinner, we snuggled up on the couch to watch a movie. Stan decided we'd watch _Dumb and Dumber_, which he claimed was one of his favorite movies. He practically quoted the entire movie while we watched it. At one point in the movie, he put his hand on my leg and let it slide up to my thigh. I felt a tingling sensation.

He tilted my face toward his and started to kiss me. As we were kissing he slid his hands under my top and unhooked my bra. I pulled away, feeling shy and nervous.

"What's wrong?" he asked, reaching for me again.

"Nothing," I replied. "Just…you know, a little nervous."

"Let me take care of that," he said, leaning in to kiss me again. He worked his hands under my top and started to feel my breasts. I was feeling tingly all over, and I couldn't tell if it was a good feeling or a bad feeling.

"Did you want to finish watching this movie in my room?" he asked when we pulled apart, a hungry look in his eyes.

"Okay," I said uncertainly. He didn't notice. He popped the movie out of the DVD player and led me to his room, which I'd never even seen before. It was pretty empty. There was a big unmade king sized bed with a plain brown comforter in the center of the room. In front of the bed was a TV, and next to the TV was a mahogany dresser.

He put the movie on and sat on his bed, patting the seat next to him. I walked over and sat down while he massaged my shoulders. "You don't have to be nervous," he said softly. "I would never do anything to hurt you."

"I know you wouldn't, Stan." I turned to him and before I could say anything else he cupped my chin in his hands and pulled me towards him for another kiss.

After several minutes of kissing he motioned for me to lie down with him. I rested my head on his chest and felt his hand go down my back to my rear. He rubbed my butt as we watched the movie.

Soon his hands were wandering all over my body. It felt different than all the times I'd ever been with Ben. Stan was definitely more experienced. He really seemed to know what he was doing. He knew where he wanted his fingers to be.

Before I could really grasp what was happening, he was sliding my shirt over my head, murmuring how beautiful I was, kissing the freckles that dotted my chest. I kissed him back and hoped I was doing the right thing.

Stan removed his clothes and retrieved a condom from his bedside table drawer. I sat up quickly, my heart racing. "Stan?"

"Yes?"

"This is my first time." Then I squeezed my eyes shut, afraid I would be met with laughter. Would he really want to go through with this if I was a virgin?

He sat beside me and clasped my hands in his. "That's all right," he said quietly. "I'll go slow, and if you feel like you're not ready we'll stop. Okay?"

I momentarily debated whether or not I felt ready for this moment. Shouldn't your first time be with someone special who you really care about? I certainly cared about Stan, and he was special to me. It felt like taking this step would solidify our relationship. He would no longer be this guy I met and had gone out a few times with. He would become my boyfriend, and there would be a devotion to each other.

"I'm ready," I whispered. As if to prove my point, I slid off my pants and sat back down.

Stan pressed me against his pillows and kissed my neck. I felt as he started to work his way inside me. I'm not going to lie, it wasn't pleasant. I remember one time I walked in on the triplets watching a naughty movie they'd gotten from one of their friends. My parents had taken the other kids shoe shopping and left me to watch them. The few seconds I saw did not seem as if the woman was in any pain. Of course, then I screamed at them and they scrambled to change the channel as if they somehow put that movie in by mistake. I think Jordan even said, "Huh? This isn't _Spiderman_!"

So what I felt was nothing like I thought it was going to be. It wasn't really romantic, and Stan was making this really weird face as if he was concentrating hard on something. To be quite honest, I was having trouble not giggling because he looked funny. I felt so childish. Sex was supposed to be something two people share, not something you're supposed to find funny.

Stan was so busy concentrating he didn't notice I wasn't reacting, so I decided to make some sounds you hear in movie love scenes. It still hurt, but I hoped it would be over soon. Finally, Stan appeared to finish and pulled out of me. He slipped the condom off and tossed it on the floor. He lay down on his pillows, patting his bare chest as an invation for me to rest my head on it.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm fine."

He ran his finger along my arm. It send shivers down my spine. "Do you have any regrets?" he asked seriously.

I turned a little to look into his warm brown eyes. The eyes that had made me all mushy inside the first time I met him. I knew that even though things didn't go as I thought, it would get better. "No regrets," I told him honestly.

There were a few moments of thoughtful silence. "Mallory, could I ask you a question?"

My heart started to pound. "Of course. What is it?"

"Did you want to spend the night?"

My breath caught in my throat. I weighed my options. I could say yes and not have to have the night end. Were things moving too quickly? How much time should pass before you start spending the night together? My other choice was to tell him no, probably make him feel as if he did something wrong and spend a lonely night back at the dorm since everyone else would probably still be out. My choice seemed clear.

I smiled at Stan. "I'd love to."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Betsy asked me, a worried look crossing her face.

I shoved two dirty sneakers in a box and sealed it shut. "Absolutely."

"Mal, I'm just saying this because I'm your friend…it's only been three months! That's not enough time to decide you want to move in with someone." She tugged at my arm pleadingly. "Please, just think this through."

"I have thought it through," I told her haughtily. "Besides, why would I want to stay here anyway? Sarah's been inviting different men in our room for sex and I'm getting really sick of having to check to see if there's a damn tube sock on the door all the time."

Betsy sighed. "Okay, I can understand why that would be annoying. I really could. But, you could just request another roommate. It doesn't have to come down to you moving in with Stan. I just think this is a bad idea."

Now it was my turn to sigh. "I know you're concerned, but I'm doing the right thing. Honest. You guys don't really know Stan the way I do. You've only seen him a couple of times. He's sweet and nice, and he treats me well. He has a big apartment that's right off campus and I'm going to get a room all to myself. No sharing!"

"Okay Mal, I get what you're saying. But please sit down with me for a minute so we can weigh your options," she said, catching the look on my face. "_Please_."

"Fine," I replied tightly. I followed her to my bed and sat down. She sat beside me and clasped my hands in hers.

"Let's look at the pros and the cons. And I plan on being completely unbiased here. The pros are you get to be with Stan and have your own room. Does that sound about right?"

"Yes," I said defensively. "Also, it's going to strengthen my relationship with Stan, and I won't have to deal with Sarah anymore."

"That's basically part of what I just said. Now the cons are that you are going to be further away, which means it will be more difficult for you to get to classes, the cafeteria, the library and so on. It's not exactly summer out. Plus, not only could it strengthen your relationship, it could also damage it. What if you don't like living with Stan? What if you guys get into a fight and you need some time away? What if it's the middle of the night and you have nowhere to go, and all you can do is lock yourself in your room and just cry yourself to sleep? Did you ever stop to think that living with someone you barely know can do just as much harm as good?"

"I think you're being a little melodramatic," I told her, trying to keep my voice light.

Apparently Betsy was on a roll. "And how do you know you're going to get your own room? Didn't you say before that he used that extra room for storage? Where's all that stuff going to go? Is there even a bed in there? Is he going to make sure you get to your morning classes the way we do?"

Finally I lost it. "Betsy, you're being unreasonable! I feel like you're blowing this way out of proportion. I love Stan, why can't you be happy for me? Besides, he has his own classes to get to, so I'm sure he won't mind helping me get to mine."

Betsy looked as if she were trying to figure out the best way to say something so that a child could understand. "Mal, I'm going to ask you something, and I don't want you to get pissed at me. Have you ever seen Stan _actually_ go to a class?"

My heart started to pound faster. What was she getting at? "Y-Yes," I said uncertainly. I squared my shoulders and faced her. "I have," I told her with more certainty.

She gave me a doubtful glance. "Are you sure?" she pressed.

I glared at her. "Are you insinuating that he's lying to me about having classes? Look, Bets, he's a senior. I'm sure when we're seniors it's going to be easy. We probably won't have any classes either."

Betsy looked down at her lap. "All right, Mallory. I mean, if you've seen him go to a class then I guess I was wrong. I just had doubts that he really went to school here. Or maybe he went to school here, but he already graduated."

"Yeah, I've definitely seen him go to a class," I said, lying through my teeth. "But again, I appreciate your concern." I felt terrible. Betsy was only trying to be a good friend. I didn't know why I never give the fact that he didn't go to classes a second thought.

Betsy stood up and smoothed her pants down. "I guess I'll just let you pack then. Let me know if you need any help." With that she turned and walked out of the room.

I watched her go, a knot forming in the pit of my stomach. I surveyed the sealed boxes around my room. I had already spoken to Campus Life about my move. I told them a friend and I had found an apartment off campus. Normally, freshmen are required to remain on campus dorms during their first year but I forged a note from my mother to make them let me go. Stan had helped me write the letter. He had insisted on several occasions how moving in would be perfect for our relationship.

I tried to convince myself he was right as I opened up my underwear drawer and started to absentmindedly fold them into an empty box. Something was nagging at me, and I knew what it was. What if Stan wasn't a student? What if Betsy was right and I was just too stupid to even put two and two together? I decided I would have to talk to Stan about it right away. I was sure it was just a simple misunderstanding.

I decided I had better get this over with now before we move in together. I pressed SEND, since Stan was the last person I talked to.

"Hey baby. I can't wait to see you," he said when he picked up the phone.

I immediately melted, completely forgetting about what I had intended to ask him. "I know me neither. I'm almost all packed."

"Great. Are you ready to be picked up now? I can help you finish up and then we can load my car. I was thinking we could have a nice dinner tonight to celebrate."

I was smiling so hard I felt my face would break. I was really doing this. I was moving in with Stanley! "I think I'm ready now," I told him excitedly.

"I'll see you in a few, my love."

His love! I was his love! Suddenly I realized I shouldn't let other people change the way I already know I feel. Betsy was probably just jealous because she didn't have someone as caring and wonderful as Stan in her life. Who cares if he hardly went to class? It didn't mean he wasn't really a senior.

I felt better as I tossed the last of my underwear into the box, and then stuffed my bras on top of it. I was just closing the box as my buzzer went off. I bounced up to it and pressed the TALK button. "I'll be right down!" I called, since I already knew who it was.

I grabbed my room key and took the elevator downstairs to go sign Stan in. As soon as he saw me he pulled me to him and gave me a deep kiss. I ended the kiss quickly, feeling shy. "So are you excited?" he asked as he followed me down the hall.

"Yeah, I think this is an important step for us."

"It certainly is." He came up from behind me and gave my shoulder a squeeze.

Stan helped me put the last of my stuff into the final box and then together we started to carry the boxes out to his car. "Ready to go?" he asked when we were all done.

I shook my head. "Just give me a minute. I wanted to say goodbye to Betsy and Meghan."

Stan pouted. "You can see them later, you're just moving a block away."

I glanced up at my dorm building. I didn't want to leave knowing that Betsy was upset with me. I wanted to make things right. I turned back to Stan. "Honestly, it'll just take a minute. I promise."

"Make it quick," he snapped, in a tone I had never heard him use before.

I ignored it and hurried back upstairs. I knocked on their door. Betsy opened it and looked a little surprised to see me. "Hey Mal, what's up?"

I responded by throwing my arms around her. "I'm sorry if I was being bitchy earlier. I know you're looking out for me. I just want you to know that I wouldn't be making a stupid decision unless I'd thought it out first. My family has always told me how level headed I am. I really feel this is right for me."

Betsy pulled away. "I know, sweetie. And we'll still hang out of course. It will just be weird not having you next door all the time."

"I'll visit you guys all the time," I said, looking around the room. "Where's Meg?"

"She's at the library."

"Well, tell her I said bye. Did you guys want to do lunch on Monday?" I asked.

"That sounds cool. Give me a call okay?" she squeezed my hand. "Be careful."

I looked at her strangely. "Of course I will. Don't worry about me."

She nodded but didn't say anything. "I'll talk to you later."

I went downstairs to Stan. He was already behind the wheel with the engine running. "I thought I told you to make it quick," he said when I sat down.

"I did," I replied testily. "I was just talking to Betsy for a minute."

"When I say make it quick, I mean it. Don't let it happen again."

I turned to look at him. Why was he so snappy all of a sudden? "Are you having a bad day or something?"

In an instant his eyes softened. "Yeah, I am actually. I'm sorry, baby, I shouldn't have taken it out on you." He placed his hand over mine, and I could see that the hardness that was once in his eyes was replaced with its usual warmth. "I won't let it happen again."

* * *

Later that evening after I'd unpacked most of my things, I settled down onto the living room couch with Stan to watch a movie. "So," I asked casually. "What happened today that made you have such a bad day?"

"A bad day? What are you talking about? My day is great! My baby just moved in with me, how could I be having a bad day?"

"But you said…"

"Don't worry about what I said," he said gruffly, pulling me close to him. "What matters now is that we're together. And that's how it should always be."

I smiled up at him as he kissed the end of my nose. "I'm happy I'm here, too."

A few minutes later, we were having sex in his bedroom, which I was getting used to more and more. I was also finding myself starting to enjoy it. Afterward, as we lay naked next to each other in bed, he put his arm around me protectively. "I love you, Mallory Pike," he said softly.

"I love you too, Stanley Stewart."

"You're my girl now, do you know that?"

"I'll always be your girl," I replied, wondering if he'd catch the line from _Forrest Gump_.

He didn't. "Yes you will. And I promise I'll always protect you from now on."

I giggled. "Protect me from what?"

He gave me a serious look. "From anything. From anyone. If anyone ever tries to hurt you, I'll hurt them."

"You mean you'll be like my bodyguard?" I asked, still giggling.

"This isn't a joking matter, Mallory. I consider this to be very serious. You are very special to me. You mean the world to me. I always want you to be happy, and if anyone tries to jeopardize that then they're going to be very sorry."

I finally stopped giggling. Stan had an intense look in his eyes that almost frightened me. He looked deadly serious. "Well," I asked, trying to sound innocent. "What exactly would you to if someone tried to hurt me?"

"I'd kill them."

* * *

"So what's it like to be living with Stan?" Meghan asked over lunch on Monday.

"Even though it's only been a weekend, it's been great! It's so nice to wake up next to him every day-"

"Wait a minute," Betsy interrupted. "What do you mean, 'waking up next to him'? What happened to your own room?"

"Oh that," I said quickly. "Well, I keep my stuff in there, but Stan wasn't able to get rid of all of his own things so he suggested we just share his bed in the meantime."

I saw Meghan and Betsy exchange worried glances. "And…you're okay with this arrangement?" Meghan asked carefully.

"Of course. It's so much fun! Yesterday he got up early and surprised me with breakfast in bed. How romantic is that?"

Betsy nodded. "It sounds really nice. And if you're happy, then we're happy for you."

"I am happy," I said firmly. I noticed they still looked uneasy so I decided to change the subject. "So Stan is coming home with me this weekend to spend Thanksgiving with my family. It'll be his first time meeting them."

"Wow! Does your mom know he's coming?" Meghan asked, dipping a french fry in ketchup and taking a sip of her soda.

"Not yet. I was planning on calling her tonight. Honestly, though, I know it won't matter because when you grow up having to make meals for ten people daily, one extra really doesn't change things."

"I see," Betsy said. "That should be interesting. Are you planning on staying the whole weekend there?"

"I'm not sure yet. I was going to, but then I thought that maybe Stan and I could just spend the night and then come back early Friday morning. I mean, I've only been staying with him for a few days I'd like to be able to enjoy it more." I hadn't exactly mentioned my plans to Stan either. I didn't know if he had his own family that he wanted to visit, but he had told me several times he couldn't wait to meet my brothers and sisters so I figured this would be the perfect opportunity.

"You don't think your parents will be upset that you're not spending Thanksgiving weekend with them?" Meghan asked.

"They should be okay. I'll make it up to them by spending my entire Christmas vacation with them. It'll be fine," I replied, trying to sound confident even though I wasn't. The truth was I was pretty sure my parents would be really mad if I didn't stay. However, once they met Stan I was sure they'd love him as much as I did and would be really happy that I was trying to build our relationship. They would understand then.

After lunch I headed to the library to get some studying done. I was still a little behind on my classes, although I had put in extra work to get caught up since Stan had insisted I focus on my studies. I flipped open my College Algebra book, the class I was most behind in and started working on my homework problems. I'd been working for no more than ten minutes when my cell phone rang. I saw it was my mother calling.

"Hey Mom!" I squealed, before realizing I was in the library. I left my things on the table and hurried outside, feeling a cold blast of wind hit my face. I hugged my jacket closer to me. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Mallory. I feel like we haven't talked in ages. How are things there?"

"Great, everything's wonderful!" I gushed.

"Well, you sound happy. Are you still doing well in your classes?"

The last time we'd spoken I had told her my classes were going great, even though I was going out and getting drunk and high practically every night. At least I was doing better than I was then. "Yeah, my classes are fine. Listen, Mom, I actually wanted to ask you something. I've kind of been seeing someone and I was wondering if he could join us for Thanksgiving dinner."

"Seeing someone? That's wonderful! Is he in one of your classes?" She sounded absolutely thrilled for me.

"Not exactly. We actually ran into each other on campus. He's a senior," I added quickly. "His name is Stan, and he's really nice. So what do you think, Mom? Would it be okay if he came?"

"Of course. I'd love to meet him. He's more than welcome. So tell me, have you found a part time job yet?"

I gulped. I'd forgotten about that other little tidbit I told her the last time we spoke. I'd been so busy trying to catch up I hadn't even had time to think about it. Better not lie again. "No, not yet Mom. But I promise I will soon. It's just my classes are a little harder than I expected. In fact I'm at the library now, studying."

"Oh okay. We can talk later if you'd like. Why don't you call me after you're done studying? Just promise me you'll try to look for something when you get caught up."

"I will Mom. I'll talk to you later okay?" I hung up feeling terrible. But I planned on not letting my mother down. I knew how hard they were working to let me be here, and I didn't want to disappoint them. I would get a job soon. In fact, maybe I could start now. I marched back into the library. I knew of a lot of freshman who worked in the library just shelving books. It was an easy job that only required a few hours a week.

I went right up to the information desk. "Hi, my name is Mallory Pike. I'm a freshman looking for a campus job. Are you hiring?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

"Mallory!" shrieked Claire.

"Hey Claire!" I exclaimed, bending down to give her a hug. I motioned to Stan, who was standing beside me, looking off into space. "This is my boyfriend, Stanley Stewart."

Claire giggled. "You have two guy's names!"

Stan knelt down and ruffled her hair as if she were three years old. "That's right I do. How observant of you." I couldn't tell if he was being playful or sarcastic.

Claire giggled again, and I decided he was being playful. She finally opened the door the rest of the way to allow us in. I could smell the turkey as soon as we stepped inside. "Hello everyone!" I called, which was met with thundering feet down the stairs.

"Mallory, Mallory, Mallory!" Vanessa yelled, flinging herself at me and nearly knocking me off balance. "You're here!"

"Hey Vanessa, it's good to see you too," I said, returning her squeeze.

The rest of the family gathered in the living room and I had them line up as I introduced them all to Stan. I left my parents for last. "These are my parents, John and Dee Pike."

Stan stepped forward and stuck out his hand. "It's nice to meet you both."

My father was the first to take his hand. He gave it a firm shake, a look of determination passing over his face. "Stanley, is it? Just how did you meet my daughter?"

Before Stan could answer, I stepped in. "It's Stan, Dad. And we met on campus."

"What year are you?" my mother asked, looking at him warily.

"A senior, ma'am," he answered, looking her square in the eye.

My mother absolutely _hates_ to be called ma'am. She never really elaborated as to why, she just hates the word. As soon as it was said I gave Stan a horrified look, then tried to gauge my mother's reaction. She had her lips pressed in a thin line, and her eyes had narrowed slightly. "How nice," she said tightly. "What are you majoring in?"

It occurred to me that even I didn't know what he was majoring in. "I'm majoring in Psychology, ma'am."

At that point I was afraid my mother's lips would disappear. "Call me Dee, please," she said pleasantly.

By now the other kids had grown weary of the conversation and had begun to scatter. "Psychology," my father repeated. "That's an interesting major."

"The human mind is absolutely fascinating," Stan replied, a light creeping into his eyes for the first time since we arrived, "Just to imagine what makes us all so different. What makes someone behave in the way that they do? How can two children be related, and one could be a serial killer, and the other could be a successful businessman?"

"Yes, I suppose that would be fascinating," my father said blankly.

"Well, why don't we let the gentlemen get to know each other Mallory," my mother said quickly. "Come on and help me in the kitchen."

I followed my other into the kitchen. "So what do you think of him?" I whispered eagerly, as soon as we were out of earshot.

"He seems nice," she answered carefully. "How long have you been seeing each other?"

"Just over three months."

"So, he's a senior?" she continued, opening the refrigerator and taking out a tub of butter and a gallon of milk. She nodded towards a cutting board that had some onions and celery on it. "You can start chopping those."

"Yes, he's a senior," I replied, probably sounding a little exasperated. Why did everyone question that fact so much? Did he really look that much older, and I was just blind?

"I'm sorry honey, I'm just asking. He looks a little older that's all. If you say he's a senior, then I believe you."

"Okay fine," I grumbled, taking my frustration out on my chopping. I'd better be careful or I could lose a finger.

A few hours later the food was finally ready. Everyone seated themselves while my mom and dad brought everything out. I sat Stan between myself and Jordan on the opposite side from where my parents usually sit, because I figured things seemed a little tense between him and my parents and I wanted to keep him as far away as possible. I hoped that my dad hadn't given him a rough time while I was helping my mom in the kitchen.

"Was my dad too hard on you while I was gone sweetie?" I asked him as I took my seat.

"Nothing I can't handle," he replied nonchalantly.

Once all the food was on the table my mother dimmed the lights and sat down while my father came out with the turkey. All of us Pikes cheered. It's a tradition we've done every year. My mother usually buys a huge turkey and makes a seasoned marinade for it the night before so it tastes extra delicious.

"You guys are cheering for a _turkey_?" Stan whispers to me incredulously.

"It's a tradition," I whispered back defensively.

My father set the turkey down and began to carve it, while we started to serve ourselves from the other platters of food that were before us: mashed potatoes (regular and sweet), stuffing, corn, green beans, cranberry sauce, gravy, and homemade biscuits.

Once everyone was served my father had us all bow our heads so he could say grace. I was almost certain I heard Stan snort, but I ignored it. "We give thanks today for this delicious feast we are about to eat. We know that we are blessed to be able to have such a wonderful meal, and on this day we think of those who are not as fortunate. We'd also like to thank Stanley for joining us, and we hope that he will enjoy our Thanksgiving as much as we do. Amen."

"Amen," we chorused.

"Let's eat!" yelled Adam. He does that every year, too. It's like it's our signal to dig in.

I ripped one of the biscuits in half and buttered in before taking a huge, greasy bite. I was absolutely famished. I turned to Stan, who took a cautious bite of the turkey before apparently deciding the food was edible enough to eat. "It's good," he murmured.

I patted his leg proudly, and caught my father giving him what appeared to be a dirty look. Stan seemed to catch it too, because he returned the look. It was almost like he was saying "Yeah I'm with you're daughter, what are you going to do about it?" with his eyes. I patted his leg a little tighter. I didn't want a fight to start between them.

"So Stan, tell us about yourself," my mother said.

Stan looked bewildered. "What do you want to know?"

"Any information you wish to share," my father countered through gritted teeth.

"Let see…I think Mallory is pretty special," he said, giving me a smile.

"Clearly," my mother said, sounding strained.

This was not going well. "Okay, well I am majoring in Psychology, and I grew up in Massachusetts, just outside of Boston. I guess I'm a pretty boring guy." He laughed hysterically at his own joke while the rest of us stared at him in silence.

For the first time ever, I couldn't wait for Thanksgiving dinner to be over. It seemed as if my parents were purposely trying to make Stan feel uncomfortable, and it was really starting to annoy me. He hadn't done anything wrong, so why were they being so difficult with him? I had hoped they would've at least made him feel welcome.

At last, after everyone had cleaned their plates, and my mother's famous pumpkin pie had been served, we started to clear the table. Jordan, who seemed to take a liking to Stan, dragged him to the rec room to play video games with him and the other triplets. I helped my mother put the food in containers and load the dishwasher. "Mallory, can I ask you something?" she asked, as she sealed the lid on a Tupperware container of stuffing.

I sighed, already sensing what was coming. "Sure," I said half-heartedly.

"Does Stan treat you well? Honestly. He just comes across as kind of…off putting."

"Mom, he's a really sweet guy. I admit he might not have the warmest personality, but I think that's just his exterior. Maybe he had a rough childhood and he doesn't like to talk about himself much, and maybe that's why he has that protective shield around himself." The more I started to talk about it, the more I started to believe it. "I think you and Dad probably made him nervous, too. It's his first time meeting the both of you and I'm sure he wanted to make a good impression and right out of the gate you guys attack him!"

"We weren't attacking him, Mallory. We are asking questions of someone who is clearly important to you. But you know what? You're important to us, and since we can't watch over you all the time we want to make sure you're being taken care of."

"Well, I am. Stan is a wonderful guy. You just need to get to know him."

"It doesn't appear as if he wants us to," she replied.

"I don't know," I answered angrily, tired of trying to defend him. I felt as if I was always trying to defend him to everyone. Why couldn't anyone see what a great guy he was?

After we finished cleaning up I joined Stan and the triplets in the rec room, who were absorbed in playing one of those Grand Theft Auto games. I watched as Jordan gleefully took a chainsaw and chased a woman down the street before running the chainsaw through her as her blood sprayed all over the place. I shuddered. "This game is just lovely. Do Mom and Dad know you have this game?"

"They bought it for us," he answered, his eyes not leaving the screen.

"Do they know how graphic it is?" I asked.

"Probably not."

I sighed. My parents took somewhat of a liberal approach to parenting, but I felt that even they would be against a game that promoted killing people just to steal their cars. Besides, why were they being so tough with me when the triplets were watching pornography behind their backs and playing killing games? All I did was bring my boyfriend home.

"Whatever," I muttered, flopping down on the couch beside Stan.

"Go in the warehouse," he was instructing Jordan. "That's where the mission is."

"You played this game before?" I asked him in disgust.

He gave me a look as if I'd ask him if he'd ever eaten chocolate. "Yeah, I own it."

I shook my head. Maybe it was a guy thing. Suddenly, a terrible though occurred to me. I wondered if Stan had ever watched pornography, and if he had it in his apartment. I immediately decided that the answer to that was yes, which made me feel uneasy.

"Kill that guy!" Stan yelled. "That's one of the gang members!"

I sighed again, and asked Stan for his car keys. "I'm going to get our overnight bags from the car," I told him.

"Shoot him!" he screamed. "Yeah, that's fine."

I rolled my eyes and ran back upstairs. I grabbed my jacket from the hall closet and darted outside. My breath came out in puffs. I quickly got our bags and hurried back inside to the where the heat was.

I went upstairs to my room, and dropped my bag on the floor. I figured Stan would probably have to sleep on the pull out couch in the rec room. I wondered what my parents would do if they knew Stan and I were living together. Besides kill me.

Vanessa was sprawled on her bed, writing furiously in her journal. As soon as she saw me she snapped her journal shut and bounced over to my bed. "So Mom and Dad pretty much hate Stan, huh?" she asked conspiratorially.

"Looks like it," I replied. "They'll probably treat all of the boyfriends that way, though. Especially Dad." I paused. "What do you think of him?"

"I don't know. He's pretty quiet. I guess he's okay. All that matters to me is what you think of him."

Aw. My sister was so sweet. I wish everyone shared her sentiment. "I think he's great!"

"Well then he's great," she said, giving me a hug.

"Thanks, Vanessa."

We heard our mother call us, so we bounded downstairs. "Yeah, Mom?" Vanessa called.

"I thought we could all play charades," my mother said. "It's a nice family game."

I rounded up the boys from downstairs while the rest of the kids and my father came into the living room. When I told Stan what we we're playing he made a face. I'm sure he'd rather go and pretend to kill people.

After a quick refresh of the rules, my mother suggested Stan go first. "Nah, it's okay. I suck at charades."

My mother looked annoyed. "At least try, dear. Besides, you're our guest of honor."

"I just came with Mallory because she made me. Once we moved in I figured – "

"Excuse me?" my father sputtered. "Moved in?"

Oh no. Please let this be a nightmare. Please don't tell me he really just spilled the beans about our living together.

Stan glanced at me, and odd smile forming across his face. "Didn't Mallory tell you we moved in together about a week ago?"

My mother stood up angrily. "She most certainly did not! Is this true, young lady?"

My parents rarely call me young lady. I knew I was in major trouble. "Um…" I stammered. "Kind of. It's just my roommate is so horrible and –"

"That's no excuse!" my father boomed.

"How can you move in with someone you've only been with for three months!" my mother shouted. Suddenly, she caught herself. "All of you guys go to the rec room."

"Aw Mom," Nicky complained. "Things were just started to get good."

"Go!" my father yelled. The kids scurried away.

My mother sighed. "Let's sit down and talk about this. Mallory, I really want you to think things through. You're eighteen, so you are an adult, and I'm afraid we can't make you do what we want. But don't you think you're moving a little fast?"

"Not at all," I replied, lifting my chin and trying to look defiant. "Like you said, I'm an adult, and I've made my decision. From the minute we walked in the door you hated Stan. I don't think anything he could've said would've made you treat him any differently. I wish you could just be happy for me instead of upsetting me." I could feel tears forming at the corners of my eyes and I tried to fight them back.

"Mallory, we just have your best interests at heart," my father said gently. "We just want to make sure you're doing the right thing."

"Hey man, why don't you back off? She already told you she's made her decision!" Stan said, speaking up for the first time since the argument started.

My father glared at him icily. "I don't believe I was talking to you."

"Well, _I'm_ talking to you. And I said leave her alone."

"You do not come to my house and talk to me like that!" my father said, his voice rising.

"Then I guess we won't be in you're house," Stan replied with a smirk.

I watched the mess unfold and stole a glance at my mother. She appeared as if she wanted to cry. Part of me wanted to reach out to her and the other part wanted to side with Stan, since I felt for him too.

"Mallory, please don't go!" my mother pleaded. "We're worried about you."

I felt Stan put his hand on my shoulder protectively. "Well maybe you shouldn't worry about me Mom. I'm a big girl now, and you can't tell me what to do or who to live with anymore. If I want to be with Stan I'm going to be with Stan and there's nothing either of you can do to stop me!" With that I stormed upstairs and grabbed our bags from my room. I marched back down and handed Stan his jacket while I put mine on.

"Mallory…" my father started. "Please, don't do this." He stepped towards me.

Stan turned to my father fiercely. "I thought I told you to back off. She's mine now, and that's how it going to be. So why don't you guys just mind your own fucking business!"

I felt terrible, but I knew I had to remain calm. I turned my back on my parents and walked out the house, with Stan slamming the door behind us.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine **

I hadn't talked to my parents in weeks. As the days went by and Christmas grew closer and closer, I began to feel worse about leaving on what was supposed to be a family holiday. Lately, Stan always seemed to have plans for us and I never felt like I had any free time to call when he wasn't around. For some reason, I felt as if he wouldn't want me talking to them, so I knew I'd have to be discreet if I ever tried to contact anyone.

I was surprised (and maybe a little hurt) that no one had tried to call me. Maybe they were upset with me. I couldn't say I blamed them. I'd left on Thanksgiving. What kind of daughter does that? What kind of daughter did that make me?

I decided I would try and make things up to them by buying nice gifts and dropping by on Christmas Eve. I was sure that even though I hadn't discussed things with Stan, he would be intent on wanting to smooth things over with my family, especially my parents. If we were going to continue seeing each other he should be on good terms with them. How could he possibly ask for my father's blessing if my father hated him?

Of course, I knew marriage was a long way off. Still, Stan was special to me and I wanted my parents to find him just as special as I did. Unfortunately, since Stan kept us so busy I felt as if I didn't even have time to see Betsy and Meghan either. They had complained about it during a rare occasion that I was actually available to go to lunch with them and we made plans to go Christmas shopping that Saturday.

Despite the fact that it was barely above twenty degrees that morning, I decided to walk from Stan's apartment to the dorm. Lucky for me, Stan had told me he was going to watch some college football game over a friend's house. He'd asked me to wash the dishes from the breakfast he'd made, and I was certain that I'd be able to finish them before he got back and he didn't even have to know I left. Besides, how could I get him his present if he was always with me?

I walked down the familiar hallway and noticed that Sarah had already been given a new roommate. The sign on the door now read: Sarah and Janice. I hoped Janice didn't mind a roommate that enjoyed sleeping with a new man every other week.

I knocked loudly on Betsy and Meghan's door and waited.

"Hey Mal!" Meghan exclaimed as she threw open the door. She stepped forward and held me tight, just for a moment. Then she released me and held me at arm's length. "How've you been lately? You look a little down."

"I'm fine," I told her, even though it was partially a lie. "I guess I've just been tired." I hadn't even told either of them what had happened at Thanksgiving. I was sure it would make Stan look bad and they'd hate him even more than they probably already do. It seemed as if the world was always against my relationship with Stan.

Betsy came bustling up behind Meghan, wrapping a bright blue scarf around her neck and pulling a matching hat over her head. "Ready?" she asked.

Meghan locked their door while Betsy and I started down the hall. She linked arms with me as we walked. "I'm so glad we're doing something today," she said, smiling at me. "We don't get to hang out as much ever since you moved. I'm not trying to make you feel bad or anything. I know you're in a relationship and you're in that 'getting to know you' phase. I just miss you that's all."

Meghan fell into step on my other side. "Well, all that matters is that we're going to have fun today! I've been saving up my money so I can do some serious shopping!"

Meghan had a good campus job. She worked for the bursar's office doing mainly filing and data entry. She always complained that her boss was a jerk, but she knew she wouldn't trade her cushy office job for the library, which is where Betsy and I both worked. After I'd managed to get a job quite easily, I suggested to Betsy that she work there with me, even though money wasn't exactly a problem for her. Luckily, our boss was pretty flexible. His name is Richard and he looks slightly hippie-ish with curly gray hair that he always pulls back in a low, short ponytail. He usually wears jeans and a suit jacket over a plain shirt. He'll even let us sign out for more time then we actually work, which is always a plus. I too had made extra efforts to save the little money I made there, since I had such a big family and I really wanted to get them some nice gifts this year. Not to mention I had Stan to buy for now.

We waited at the bus stop that was a few blocks away which takes us straight to the nearest mall. The wind was picking up, making the cold air sting our faces. We stamped our feet to try to keep warm while we waited for the bus. Finally, I could hear the rattle of the bus as it chugged along the road and stopped in front of us.

We raced inside to the warmth of the mall and looked around. "Does anyone have of preference on where to begin?" Meghan asked.

We decided to stop first at the Gap, where I found a really nice sweater that I knew Stan would love. It was dark green and ribbed, and would be plenty warm for the winter. I checked the price tag. It was almost fifty dollars, and even though it was a little more than I'd plan to spend on him (I still had nine other people to buy for) I realized Stan was definitely worth it. Betsy bought a scarf and glove set for her older sister, and some lotions for her younger sister. Meghan left empty handed.

"Do you guys think Stan will like this sweater?" I asked, holding it up for them to see.

"I think it's nice, Mal. He'll love it!" Meghan replied.

Next we stopped at Macy's. Meghan bought some cologne for her father and a pretty gold necklace for her mother. Betsy thought she'd be funny and buy the exact same presents for her parents. "It's not like they'll know," she giggled as they were rung up.

After much looking around, I bought some ties for my father and a nice dress shirt for my mother. I found a beautiful leather bound journal that was perfect for Vanessa, and a cool shirt for Margo, since she complained that our parents never let her wear anything fun.

"Okay, I need to eat!" Betsy exclaimed as we were leaving Macy's. "I'm famished!" She pretended to collapse from hunger, and Meghan and I pretended to carry her to the food court. We were laughing hysterically by the time we got there.

I was just walking my tray over to our table when my cell phone rang. I checked the monitor and saw that it was Stan calling. Uh-oh.

"Hey sweetie!" I said cheerfully as I flipped my phone open.

"Hey yourself," he muttered. He didn't sound happy at all.

"What's wrong?" I asked, trying to play dumb.

"Mallory, where the hell are you? Are you shopping?" He must've been able to hear the sounds of the mall behind me, and he sounded absolutely livid. Suddenly I was afraid to tell him the truth, but I realized I didn't really have a choice.

"Um…yeah. Meghan and Betsy wanted to go Christmas shopping at the last minute and they invited me to go with them. You see –"

Stan cut me off. "I don't give a shit. I make you a nice breakfast this morning and all I asked you to do was the dishes, which probably wouldn't have taken you more than ten minutes. But instead, you decide that you're simply too busy to be bothered with such a trivial task and you go shopping? WITHOUT TELLING ME?" he shouted at the end, making me wince. Suddenly I felt terrible. He was absolutely right. Why did I think I would be back in time to do the dishes? Why didn't I just do them before I left? And how long do college football games last anyway?

"I'm sorry, Stan. It's just I really haven't had a chance to do any shopping and Christmas is just a few weeks away!" I probably sounded like I was whining.

"You're damn right you're sorry. I want you to come home right now." Click.

I stared at my phone before realizing I was still standing in the middle of the food court with my tray in hand. Sighing, I went to the table where Meghan and Betsy were already seated, eyeing me curiously.

"Is everything okay? Was that Stan?" Betsy asked gently as I sat down.

Suddenly I felt as if I was going to cry. I swallowed several times, trying to will the tears away. "Yeah," I replied shakily. "He'd asked me to do the dishes and I forgot so he was kinda mad. Plus he didn't know I was going out."

"Why didn't you tell him?" Meghan pressed.

I shook my head. "I don't know! I just thought I would come home before he even had to know I was ever gone. I should've done the dishes before I left, then he wouldn't be so angry with me." I bit my lip to keep from crying.

"Well, what are you? His slave?" Betsy asked. "Why do you have to do the dishes like you're Cinderella? So what, now you can't go to the ball?"

"Not unless my little mice friends help me," I muttered, too upset to even crack a smile. "I'm sorry guys, I should probably get going. I can just grab the bus myself."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Meghan exclaimed, standing up and throwing her food away. "We'll go home with you and explain what happened. I'm sure he won't get upset if we're there. Come on Betsy, you hog. Finish up, will you?"

Betsy had gotten lunch from three different places. I noticed some curly fries from Arby's, a six inch sub from Subway, and a slice of pizza from Sbarro. Betsy took one last bite from her droopy slice of pizza and frowned. "Is he making you come home right now?" she asked, giving me a disapproving look.

"Yes, unfortunately. Like I said guys, I'll just go home by myself; it's not a big deal."

"Absolutely not," Meghan said firmly, giving Betsy a glare.

Betsy sighed, went and got a to go container from Sbarro and put the remainder of her food in there. "I think Stan needs to take a chill pill. Seriously, Mal. What exactly does Stan do all day that makes him unable to do the dishes? He certainly isn't going to class as much as you, and he doesn't appear to have a job. So what is he so utterly busy with?"

Now it was my turn to sigh. I was really getting tired of having this same argument with them over and over again. I was also tired of having to make excuses. The truth was I was beginning to believe Meghan and Betsy about Stan's age. I was beginning to believe that he wasn't a college senior at all. Still, his age didn't change who he was, so I always brushed it away. As much as I wanted to try and find out how old he really was I asked myself: would it change how I felt about him? The answer was always no. I cared about Stan, and whether or not he was untruthful about his real age was something that didn't change the way I felt about him. "You guys don't understand. Stan does a lot for me, and all I had to do was a simple task for him which I didn't do. I feel really bad about it, but I know you guys still probably have shopping to do, so I will just go."

I turned and rushed away from them before they could stop me. I was pretty sure I heard Meghan call after me, but I kept going. I had to get to Stan. He'd sounded very upset, and he had good reason. I just hoped he wouldn't be too mad at me.

I ran outside just as the bus was pulling up. I quickly shoved a dollar into the feeder and took a seat towards the back, leaning my head against the window. The walk back to Stan's apartment was long and cold. The wind had picked up even more, and I couldn't even stop shivering after I entered his apartment building and let myself in.

Stan was seated on the couch staring at the television even though it was off. I felt like a child whose parent had just caught them sneaking out. "Hi," I said, as I took my jacket off and hung it up in the closet. I tossed my bags in there and sat next to him on the couch. I turned to face him, but he still stared straight ahead.

"I'm very disappointed in you, Mallory," he said, finally turning to me.

"I know, I –"

He held up a hand to stop me. "I wasn't finished. Now, I feel as if I've been very good to you. Would you agree?"

I was afraid to say anything, so I just nodded. I could feel tears start to make their way up again, and my throat tightened.

"I've brought you into my home, giving you much more space than you could ever ask for at those crappy dorms. I've taken you away from that stupid whore you call a roommate. Furthermore, I've made sure you focused on your studies instead of going out and partying the way you used to. To top it all off, I do my best to surprise you with things like breakfast or a romantic dinner. Have I got all that right?"

I nodded again, feeling miserable.

"Good. So we seem to be in agreement here. So for the life of me I can't fathom why, with all that, you feel justified in leaving without telling me where you're going, and not doing the one thing I asked you to do. I don't even ask you to clean that much. So I would love for you to tell me why your behavior was acceptable."

I opened my mouth to speak, but my mouth felt completely dry. I swallowed and tried again. "It wasn't acceptable behavior, Stan. You're absolutely right, and I feel terrible. I know how much you do for me and I don't know why I didn't tell you. I just felt like I hadn't seen my friends in awhile and I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to buy you something nice, since I love you so much."

"I see. Just make sure it doesn't happen again. Also, I don't like the influence those girls have on you. I really don't think it's wise for you to keep hanging out with them."

I blinked. "You mean I can't see my friends again?"

He glared at me. "People like that, Mallory, are not you're friends. They convince you to do things that are stupid. Things like drinking and getting high, not to mention sneaking around behind your boyfriend's back. They don't care about what consequences their actions have, and I don't want you seeing them. Period."

Suddenly instead of feeling ashamed I felt angry. Who was he to tell me who I could be friends with? "Stan, I appreciate your concern," I said coolly. "But you are not my parent, and you don't get to tell me who I can hang out with. Betsy and Meghan are my friends, and if I want to see them I will!"

Stan seemed a little taken aback by my outburst. He went back to staring at the blank television screen. Then he turned back to me, and I saw pure rage in his eyes. He reared his hand back, and before I could react, slapped me hard across the face.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

"Mallory, would you please open the door?" Stan called.

I wiped my face with the back of my hand. The tears didn't seem to stop flowing. I reached up and gently touched the welt that was forming on the side of my cheek. The welt that Stan had put there.

"Mallory?" Stan called again. His voice was so soft and gentle, nothing like the rage I'd witnessed just a few moments earlier. "Mallory honey, please. I'm so sorry for hitting you. I shouldn't have done that, and I understand you're upset. Please just open the door so we can talk about this."

I sat on the floor to the spare bedroom, playing with the carpet. I tugged and tugged at one of the stringy pieces until it finally came off. I didn't say anything. Stan had never behaved this way before. I couldn't help but think that he had every right to be upset, since I did leave without telling him. But another part of me thought that even with that, I didn't deserve to get slapped.

"Go away Stan," I said quietly, not even recognizing the voice that came out of me. It sounded so pitiful and hollow.

I heard Stan sigh on the other end of the door. "Fine," he replied. "Stay in there as long as you need to. But I still want to talk later. I want to be able to tell you how sorry I am. And I _will_ make this up to you, I promise." I heard his footsteps walk down the hall to his bedroom and shut the door.

I let out a breath of air I didn't even know I was holding. What was I supposed to do now? I couldn't very well stay in here all night. The floor wasn't exactly comfortable, not to mention that I couldn't sleep with my contacts in. I stretched out and tucked my hands behind my head, as sort of a makeshift pillow. I stared at the ceiling, trying to process what had just happened.

I was hurt. Not just physically, of course, but spiritually as well. My heart was confused because I knew I loved Stan, but I was angry that he had actually hit me. And for what? For going against him when he tried to forbid me from seeing my friends? Who the hell did he think he was? I certainly had no intentions of not speaking to Betsy and Meghan anytime soon. After all, they had been there for me before I even met Stan. Not much longer before, but still. I knew we would be friends even after college. For the first time, I had doubts about my future with Stan. How could I trust that he wouldn't hit me again? I felt as if maybe I _should_ try to talk to him and hear him out.

I rolled over on my side and glanced over at the far wall. There was a box pushed up against it that read "Important Documents". What kind of documents? Before I knew it, my curiosity was getting the better of me and I wandered over to the box and untucked the flaps. I saw a manila folder that appeared to have some credit card bills in it. There were other folders that had electricity bills, gas bills, and telephone bills. There were some old tax returns beneath that, and way at the bottom of the box was a plain white envelope. I lifted it out of the box and stared at it. It was worn and creased. I flipped the envelope over and pulled out what was inside. I drew in a breath. It was a copy of Stan's birth certificate! Maybe I could see how old he really was now.

I glanced at the birth date and felt my heart drop. By my calculations, Stan was due to be twenty-eight on April fourth, which meant he was ten years older than me, and six years older than I thought he was. I felt sick to my stomach, and suddenly, very angry. How _dare_ he give me a hard time about something as simple as not doing the dishes when he was hiding his true age this whole time?

I barreled out of the room and pounded on his door. "Stan, open up!" I shouted. I could feel my face turning bright red. I was furious.

Stan opened the door, surprised. "Mallory, what is it? Look, I know you're upset—"

"That's not what I'm upset about now," I spat. I thrust the birth certificate at him. "Perhaps you'd care to explain this?"

I watched as the color drained from Stan's face. "Where did you find that?" he asked.

I hesitated. Okay, the fact of the matter was I had snooped through Stan's personal belongings to get that document. How could I be mad about something I had discovered through dishonesty? "I found it," I muttered. "That's not the point. The point is that you _lied_ to me. You lied to me while making me feel bad about what happened earlier. And I haven't even gotten to this!" I yelled, pointing at the massive bump on my face.

"Mallory, I can explain. Yes, I'm twenty-seven, and I know I lied to you. It's just when I bumped into you that day and you asked me what year I was I didn't want to tell you I had already graduated. You seemed nervous enough, and I didn't want to add to that. Also, I figured I would scare you off immediately, and you wouldn't take the time to get to know the real me." He stared at me with his liquid brown eyes, and for a second, I almost forgave him right then and there. But as I felt my cheek begin to throb I got mad all over again.

"So who's the real you, huh? A liar and an abuser?" I asked him, my eyes narrowing.

Stan reached out to touch my cheek and I jerked away. "I'm so sorry, sweetie," he said. "I'm so sorry I hurt you. I don't know what came over me…I just was so mad that you had left without telling me. I thought maybe you would try to leave me one day, and I guess I just lost it." He looked down and sighed. "I know how upset you must be with me, but I still love you so much. Please don't leave me." He reached forward to hug me, and I let him, but I didn't hug him back.

"You lied to me," I repeated. "Not to mention that you hit me, and made me feel like the lowest being on earth when you were the one being dishonest the whole time. I don't know if I can trust you, Stan. Ever."

"I understand," Stan said quietly. "I'll understand if you never want to speak to me again." With that he went back inside his room and shut the door.

I stood there, staring at the door as my breath came in quick gasps. I looked down at the hand holding the birth certificate and saw that it was shaking. My worst fears had been confirmed. Stan was definitely not a senior, and probably not even a graduate student. So what the hell was he doing still wandering the campus? What did he do for work? I realized how truly little I knew about Stan and his life. How could I have thought I was in love with him, even considering marriage? I felt so stupid, so naïve. A million questions were running through my head, and I didn't have the answer for any of them.

I turned and walked back down the hall to the spare room, where I carefully placed the birth certificate back in its envelope and laid it on top of the other folders. I shut the box once again and sat down on the floor. I needed to think.

* * *

_Knock, knock_.

I bolted upright and rubbed my eyes. I blinked in the darkness, momentarily forgetting where I was. As the terrible memories came flooding back, I stretched my arms over my head. "Yeah?" I called out hoarsely.

"Mallory, it's Stan. Can I come in?"

I sighed. I wasn't sure if I was alert enough to talk to him right now. "Sure," I said unenthusiastically. I _had_ wanted to hear him out, after all.

The door opened and Stan poked his head in. "Were you sleeping?" he asked.

"Uh huh."

Stan flicked on the light and I had to close my eyes at the sudden brightness. It felt harsh and unwelcome. "Can you turn off the light?" I asked, feeling a headache coming on.

The room once again became dark and Stan sat down in front of me and took both of my hands in his, despite my resistance. "How are you feeling?" he asked softly.

"Tired. Hurt. Confused. Angry. Take your pick," I said sarcastically.

"I can understand all of them," he said wearily. "And I wish I could take back what happened, but I can't. So all I can do is just tell you over and over again how sorry I am, and how I know what an asshole I was." He reached out and tried to tilt my chin up to face him, but I forced myself to keep looking down. "Mallory?" he whispered.

Finally, I looked at him. The moonlight from outside illuminated his face, giving it an almost eerie quality, like when people light flashlights under their faces to make them look more ominous. Suddenly he looked like a stranger to me.

"Mallory, I love you. I'm so sorry. I will never, ever hurt you like that again. I am so ashamed of my behavior, and I wish more than anything that it never happened. You're too sweet a girl to deserve that, and I'll understand if you don't want to be with me anymore. You're better than me." Even in the darkness I could see the sadness in his eyes; it almost looked as if he were crying.

I had so many things I wanted to say to him, but when I opened my mouth, nothing came out. I was temporarily vocally paralyzed. He was looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to tell him that all was forgiven, and that I still wanted to be with him.

I took a deep breath. "Stan, I'm sure you're sorry. And I know you wish all this had never happened. However, it doesn't change the fact that it did. I am going to look at myself in the mirror tomorrow and have this constant reminder of what you did to me. Not only that, but you also lied to me. I have never lied to you about anything since we've started dating. How do I know that's the only thing you're lying about?"

"Nothing I say will probably make you believe me, but I swear it's the only thing. I didn't know how you'd deal with the fact that there was such a significant age difference between us. Now that you know, I would hope that it hasn't changed the way you feel about me. I still love you, and I always will. Remember, you're my girl forever." Stan looked at me earnestly as he spoke, and I could feel my heart starting to give away.

I shook my head and stood up. "I don't know if I feel any differently, that's the thing. I need time to think about all this. I don't think I should be here right now."

Stan stood up so forcefully I felt a small breeze hit my face. "Where are you going?" he demanded, suddenly sounding panicked.

"Away," I said firmly, staring him square in the eye.

Stan merely nodded. "I'll find you, wherever you go." And with that, he turned and walked out of the room again. I heard his bedroom door shut and lock behind him.

I quickly grabbed my overnight bag from the closet and absentmindedly threw a change of clothes in it, along with some clean underwear and my pajamas. I went into the bathroom and tossed in my toothbrush and contact solution, and grabbed an apple from the refrigerator. I took one last look around the apartment before opening the closet door and putting my coat on. I looked sadly at the gifts I had bought, the sweater I had so lovingly purchased for Stan just a few hours before. At the last minute, I grabbed my shopping bags and stuffed them in my duffel.

I opened the door quietly, then walked down the empty hall. The hall light flickered and buzzed incessantly with every step I took. I made my way into the elevator and felt a single tear roll down my swollen cheek. I didn't bother to brush it away.

The cold wind stung my face when I went outside and for a moment I hesitated. What was I going to do now? I couldn't very well go back to the dorms. Besides, Meghan and Betsy would freak out if they saw me now, and I didn't want to involve anyone just yet. I spun around on the darkened street, unsure of what to do next. It was then that I realized: I had nowhere to go.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

I spent two nights at a Motel 6 that was in the middle of downtown. It cost me thirty-five dollars a night, but I figured that was better than having to face anyone. Since I had really only brought one change of clothes, I had to wear the same clothes I wore on Saturday to class on Monday. I thought about skipping, but I knew I was probably already in dangerous territory considering my earlier absences. I hated that I had to walk from downtown, but I barely had any money left in my bank account between the Christmas presents and the motel.

I trudged up the stairs into my English class, feeling as if everyone was staring at my mangled face, but I took my seat and tried to appear as if nothing was wrong, despite how broken and tired I felt inside.

Cathy entered in her usual cloud of perfume. She was wearing an eggplant colored skirt and matching blazer, with a white scarf tied around her neck. She had on her usual heavy jewelry and fourteen pounds of makeup. Maybe it was paranoia, but she seemed to focus on me for a minute before turning her attention to the class. "Okay guys, if you'll look at your syllabus you'll see we only have about two weeks left of class." She paused. "I know, none of you are as devastated as I'd hoped you'd be."

Everyone laughed, as they usually did at Cathy's sarcastic brand of humor. She was definitely one of the coolest teachers I'd ever had, right up there with Mr. D, my sixth grade creative writing teacher.

"So, I was thinking that in lieu of your final, which I planning on making exceptionally hard, I thought I would give you a mini-project. I've already pre-assigned you to teams of two, since I figured none of you would study until the night before anyway."

The class gave a soft groan, but I was thrilled. I would much rather have a project that I could work on over the course of a couple weeks than have to cram my brain with useless information that I would inevitably forget on the day of the test anyway. I glanced around the room, wishing we could pick our partners. I would definitely have chosen Greta, a quiet girl who sat in the back with curly red hair like mine. She and I had spoken on occasion, and she was as sweet as could be.

She called out the names of the teams she'd chosen, and most people seemed to be pretty happy with their partners. She seemed to pay attention to who everyone hung out with and made teams from there. I waited expectantly for my name, figuring she must've paired me with Greta, since she was the only person I'd ever talked to.

"Greta Saunders and Mike Tomlinson," she announced. Who? I turned to Greta, who was shyly walking over to a wiry kid with the thickest glasses I'd ever seen. I didn't think I'd ever seen them talk before. Why would she pair them together? Who did that mean was left for me?

"And finally, Chris Zimmerman and Mallory Pike." As pathetic as it may sound, I realized I had no idea who that was. It didn't matter though, because apparently he knew me. A few moments later a kid with dark brown hair that was slightly spiky, bright hazel eyes, and a smattering of freckles across his nose appeared beside me.

"Hi, Mallory," he said, taking the seat that had already been vacated behind me. Everyone was sitting with their respective partners, so I turned my desk around and pushed it up against his.

"Hi," I replied nervously. I didn't know how I couldn't have noticed him before. He was actually pretty cute. I felt myself blush, feeling bad for thinking so.

Cathy walked around and handed us an outline of what our project was going to be. She had given us each a controversial book, and we were to each take either the pro or con side, and state whether we agreed with those that were against the book, or if we thought the opposite. I was pleased with our title, since it was a book I had previously read. We were given a book called _The Jungle_ by Upton Sinclair, which detailed the filthy conditions of the Chicago meatpacking industries in the early 1900s. I felt it would've been difficult to read a book and do a report in the time allotted, but I guess that was how college was. At any rate, at least I didn't have to worry about the reading part. I had remembered the book well, as its details had almost made me give up meat and become a vegetarian.

"I know this book," I whispered excitedly Chris. "I've read it before."

His face broke into a smile. "That's great," he said, winking. "We're sure to get an A now." His hazel eyes sparkled, making him look even cuter.

We spent the rest of the class making a summary of our book, checking it every so often for references. After we were dismissed, Chris swung his bag over his shoulder and asked me to go to the library with him to study some more. My heart soared, but I glanced down at my dirty clothes and frowned. All I really wanted to do was shower and change. "Um, I think I have to take care of something first. Maybe we can meet up later?" I figured I could run back to the motel and take a quick shower at least.

Chris looked disappointed. "I've actually got a ten o'clock, so…"

Something was telling me to go. To put everything off until later. "You know what? It can wait. Why don't we just go now?"

* * *

We settled into the soft maroon colored couches at the library. We figured we had a pretty good head start considering my familiarity with the book. I cleared my throat nervously. "Okay, so we're going to be taking the con side right? Meaning we agree with the controversy?"

"Yeah. From what you've told me, I can see why this book caused a panic. It all sounds pretty gross." He wrinkled his nose, which suddenly made him look adorable.

_Stop it, Mallory,_ I scolded myself. _One fight and you're already looking at other people?_

We spent the next half hour doing research online, finding out all about new agricultural regulations that were passed as a result of the book. We found out that the book had been censored, and that it was compressed from what was originally written. After taking over two pages of notes, I put my pencil down and flexed my fingers. I glanced over at Chris. "What have you got?" I called out to him.

"A lot," he responded, writing furiously. "This book was intense, huh?"

I laughed softly and nodded. "You could say that."

After we had gathered our notes and organized them, we settled back on the couch. It was 9:40, and I asked Chris if he wanted to start heading to his class.

"Nah, it's right nearby. I'm fine here," he replied, smiling at me.

My cheeks reddened. "Oh okay," I said, shrugging and trying to appear casual.

He leaned forward suddenly. "Did you walk into a wall or something?"

I am momentarily dumbfounded until I remember what he's probably referring to. Just when I'd managed to forget Saturday even happened. "No," I replied, blushing. "But close. I um…tripped over my shoe and hit a table." I definitely wasn't going to divulge what had really happened, and I thought my lie seemed plausible.

"Oh, okay. That kind of sucks." He shrugged his shoulders. "So, Mallory. What made you come to Cameron?"

I frowned at the memory. I guess I could leave out the Spaz Girl part. "I went to a boarding school nearby called Riverbend, and I heard about it through one of my teachers there. I got the pamphlet, and pretty much fell in love with the campus."

"Yeah, it is pretty nice. I actually went to school in this town, so it was a natural choice for me. It's even cheaper since I don't have to dorm here. I just drive from home."

"Lucky you," I commented. "I'm trying to help my parents out as best I can, but the measly pay I make here doesn't go very far."

Chris' eyes lit up. "You work at the library?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I work here with one of my friends. It's not so bad. The boss is really cool, and he's pretty flexible. Actually, I'm scheduled to work here tonight."

"You know, I tried to get a job here. They said they didn't need anyone at the moment. I would've loved to work at the library."

"Well, I can talk to Richard if you want…he's my boss. Maybe a space has opened up."

His hazel eyes were sparkling again. "That'd be great."

I smiled at him and he smiled back. He had a nice smile, with two rows of perfect white teeth. Even after my braces, my smile wasn't that nice. I considered telling him so, but thought against it. I didn't want him to think I was trying to hit on him or something. Our eyes locked for a moment, until he finally shook his head and stood up. "I guess I should get to class. But thanks for coming with me here. I have a feeling we're going to be doing a great job on this project."

"Definitely," I said, gathering my jacket and putting my notebook back in my backpack.

I walked Chris to his class and he gave me a short wave before jogging into the building. I turned and trekked the long hike to the motel, where I checked out and walked over to another bus stop that went to the mall. I felt a slight guilt as I returned Stan's sweater, but I reasoned that it was more than I'd wanted to spend anyway and besides, I didn't feel I'd be needing it anymore. I wasn't sure what I could do next, other than apply for housing again and tell them my apartment didn't work out. I was sure they'd be able to find another roommate for me. Anyone was better than Sarah…or Stan, for that matter.

I realized I was going to have to face Stan sooner or later, and I figured now was as good a time as any. I fiddled with my hands as the bus bumped along the road, getting closer and closer to the stop near Stan's apartment. I got off and nervously walked up the path to the apartment, hoisting my duffel bag over my shoulder and staring up at the big brick building. There might as well been pouring rain and flashing thunder, since right now that building looked scarier than a haunted house.

I pressed the button by the faded typing that read STEWART and waited. A second later, Stan's crackly voice came over the intercom. "Yes?" he asked.

"It's me, Stan." He didn't answer, just buzzed me in. My stomach churned as I walked up the short flight of stairs to his apartment. He was already standing by the open door, peering down the hallway as I made my way down. He had his arms wide open, as if he expected a hug. I stepped awkwardly into his arms and let him hold me. I looked at him and saw that he looked terrible, as if he hadn't slept since I left. Maybe he hadn't.

"I'm so glad you're home," he said, kissing my cheek gently. "There's something I've been wanting to tell you."

I glanced dubiously at him as I stepped inside and set my duffel bag on the floor. "All right," I said, and sat down on the couch. "What is it?"

He sat next to me and took both of my hands in his. "Just a fair warning, this isn't something I usually tell people. So forgive me if I get emotional, because this is really hard for me to discuss." He waited, trying to gauge my reaction.

I nodded at him to proceed, so he took a deep breath. "I think I can offer some insight into my behavior. Of course, it's completely inexcusable. But I know where it comes from, and I thought you should know too. I haven't been in a serious relationship for a long time, so it's been somewhat of a shock to me." He paused again.

"Go on."

He took another deep breath. "When I was younger, I was very close to my mother. She was my world. She would always play games with me, and take me to fun places. Being an only child with a single parent isn't easy. My father was a drug addict, and he left my mother when I was just a baby, leaving her to raise me by herself. My mother was a strong woman, stronger than most. She buckled down and got two jobs to keep us fed and clothed, and always made sure that I never felt as if I was different than the other kids my age. She would come to all of my school events, and pushed me to join the Cub Scouts. She came along to one of our campouts, even though she was the only female there. She just never cared what people thought of her; she wanted to make sure that I was able to experience everything a typical boy my age should." His eyes looked wistful as he smiled to himself, recalling the fond memories.

His face suddenly bore a grim expression as he continued. "Unfortunately, things didn't stay this way. When I was about ten or eleven, my mother started feeling tired all the time. She had to quit one of her jobs because she said it was taking too much of a toll on her body. Money got tighter, but we were still a family. Then one day she was at her job and she just collapsed. No one knew what was wrong with her. One of her co-workers must've called my school, because I was sent from my class to the principal's office, where someone I didn't know took me to the hospital to see her." His voice broke then, and his eyes grew misty. I could feel my own throat tighten. This was the most Stan had ever told me about himself, and now I could see why.

He cleared his throat. "Anyway, when I got there, she wasn't very responsive. I sat by her bed and took her hand, and watched her the whole night. She looked so peaceful. Later that night, her heart monitor went flat. The doctors rushed in to try to save her, but it was too late. She was already gone." His face looked weary, and tears were already streaming down my cheeks. I patted his hand affectionately, unsure of what to say.

"After the funeral, I went to live at a foster care center. I was there for about a few months before they told me they had found a family for me. They told me how badly this couple had wanted a baby, and couldn't have one on their own. They were so excited to meet me, and soon I went to live with them. Mr. and Mrs. Coleman. They told me to call them by their first names, Roger and Theresa. I liked them at first, although Roger was never around. It started to feel like old times after awhile, just me spending time with Theresa.

Then one day Roger got laid off, and he was always around. I started to resent him, because I'd enjoyed having Theresa all to myself. I could tell he didn't like me either, and one day I talked back to him and he smacked me. After that, it became pretty common for him to get drunk and beat me up. He never touched Theresa, though. Just me. He would usually do it when she wasn't around, but one time she was there and she tried to stop him. He pushed her hard against the wall and she hit her head on the coffee table. She immediately called the cops and they took me away. I spent the next four years at that foster care place. I was too old at that point; everyone wanted a young child they could raise on their own. Finally I broke out of that shithole when I was seventeen, and I've been living on my own ever since." He looked at me significantly.

I was stunned. Nothing could have prepared me for what I just had to hear. To go through such tragedy at his age…it was unthinkable. I felt so terrible for him, I suddenly just wanted to take him in my arms and tell him everything was going to be okay.

"So you see, Mallory, I have this constant fear that the people in my life that I let get too close to me are always going to leave me. That's how I feel with you. I care about you so much, and I don't want to lose you." He gazed at me, small tears forming at the corner of his eyes.

"Wow, Stan. I don't even know what to say. I'm so sorry that you had to experience that. No child should have to go through what you did." My heart is breaking for him, and what he had to endure.

"Yeah well, what can you do? I can't change the past, but it made me who I am today so I thought you should know where I'm coming from."

I leaned over and gave him a big hug and a soft kiss on the cheek. "You don't have to be scared about me, Stan. I'm not going anywhere."

His eyes changed then, showing a glimmer of hope. "You promise?"

I nodded solemnly. "I promise, Stan. I'll never leave you."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

"Chris, stop!" I yelped helplessly.

He laughed as he poked at me yet again. "Why? Are you ticklish?" he teased.

"If I say yes, will you stop?"

He stuck his finger in my soft middle. "Maybe."

We were walking back from our English class, and we were both in great moods. Our report had been due today, and we had given what we thought was an A presentation. Actually, it was more than just a thought. Cathy had pulled us aside after class and pretty much told us to expect an A for our final, which meant despite my rocky bump of absences, I was getting an A- in the class, and so was Chris. Needless to say, we were both thrilled. We had spent a great deal of time together in the past few weeks, and we had grown pretty close. I definitely felt a flutter here and there, but I brushed it off. After all, Chris was a good looking guy. I figured his friendliness was just because of the project. He probably wouldn't want to talk to me anymore now that it was over.

"So, Mal, how about we get some breakfast to celebrate?" Chris was asking me now, linking his arm through mine. Our relationship was very friendly and even affectionate, but that didn't stop the ripples of excitement from shooting up my spine the second his skin touched mine. Naturally, I hadn't exactly told Stan the complete truth about Chris. I told him I was working on a project, and left it at that. He didn't question my constant trips to the library because he was thrilled I was taking school seriously again.

"I guess I can work you into my schedule," I said, a smile playing on my lips.

"Well, aren't you so nice for finding the time," Chris replied, mocking sarcasm.

We walked over to the cafeteria and headed straight for the waffle maker, which was the most popular attraction during breakfast. There was already a long line waiting. Chris turned to me and ran his hand through his spiky hair. "Isn't it crazy that we went almost the whole class without talking to each other?" he asked.

His question caught me off guard. "Yeah, I guess we should thank Cathy for pairing us up, huh?" I tried to sound flirtatious, but my voice was quavering.

"I did."

I looked down and blushed. Why was he even being so nice? Wasn't there some pretty girl he should be flirting with instead? Even if he had a thing for redheads, surely there were some ones on campus that resembled Ariel more than Little Orphan Annie.

"Did you really?" I asked him.

He gave me a blank look. "Yeah, I did." He turned abruptly as the person in front of him finished their waffle. He poured the batter onto the waffle iron and shut the machine. When the light flashed, he swung the iron around to cook the other side. "Are you doing anything tonight?" he asked, still facing forward.

My heart nearly stopped. It was Friday, and sadly I didn't have plans. Stan had mentioned that he'd rented a movie for us to watch, but I didn't know if that necessarily counted. "Ummm," I said, stalling for time. Why was I even assuming he was asking me out? He probably just was being polite, like when you ask someone their weekend plans. Yes, that was definitely it. "Not really." I hadn't told Chris about Stan, and I suddenly I didn't know why. What on earth was I doing?

"Cool. Did you want to catch a movie or something?" He pulled his waffle out of the machine and spooned some strawberries on it before topping it off with whipped cream.

My mouth went dry. I couldn't do this. I couldn't just go on a date with another guy. "You know, I think my boyfriend wanted to just watch a movie at home," I responded, regretting the words the instant they came out of my mouth.

He finally turned to me as I walked beside him with my freshly made waffle. "Oh. I didn't know you had a boyfriend," he said casually.

I kept my eyes on my plate, my plump waffle suddenly not looking so appetizing. "Yeah, I do. His name is Stan."

Chris suddenly started walking more quickly and I had to rush to keep up with him. "I just thought…I mean, it's cool. Whatever, you have a boyfriend, you know?"

"Yeah," I whispered. I took my seat at a table and started picking at my waffle.

"How long have you guys been together?" he asked, trying to sound pleasant.

"A few months."

It was quiet for several moments. I wondered what he was thinking. I tried for a moment to process what had actually just happened. Chris – sweet, adorable Chris – had asked me out on a date. And I declined. With good reason of course, but if you had told me several months ago that I would've rejected a date with a guy as great as Chris I wouldn't have ever believed it. I tried to convince myself that I was doing the right thing. Stan had his faults, but he had gone through a terrible ordeal and I intended on keeping my promise to him. He'd already been left enough times in his life.

The rest of our breakfast together was incredibly forced and awkward. It felt like Chris was upset, even though he was being completely nice. But it was almost as if he was being _too_ nice. Like he was forcing himself to be pleasant to hide how he was feeling inside. I felt terrible.

Chris sighed, pushed his plate back, and checked his watch. "I guess I should get going, Mallory. I gotta get to my class." He paused then, his brows knitted together as if in deep concentration. "Have fun tonight," he said finally.

I swallowed a mouthful of waffle and washed it down with a large gulp of orange juice. "Maybe we can do something another time," I offered weakly.

He gave me a look as if to say "don't pity me", but out loud he said. "Yeah…sure. Some other time." Then he got up and took his tray to the trash. I watched him walk out, feeling my heart do somersaults in my chest.

I quickly finished my breakfast even though I no longer was as hungry as I once was. I rushed outside and headed straight for the dorms.

* * *

"He asked you _out_?" squealed Betsy.

I sighed as I sprawled out on my back on Betsy's bed, staring at the ceiling. There was a crack on the left side. "Yes, and I told him no."

"Why?" demanded Meghan.

"Hello?! I have a boyfriend!"

"Yeah, but Stan's an asshole," remarked Betsy.

Meghan burst out laughing. "Wow, don't hold anything in, Betsy!"

I hadn't told either of them about what Stan and I had been through lately. They didn't know about the slap, or about his terrible childhood. I figured they hated him enough as it was. "Look, there's a lot you don't know about Stan, so please be nice about him. At least when I'm around, okay?"

Betsy sat next to me and pulled me upright. "I'm sorry, Mal," she said seriously. "It was out of line and rude."

"It's okay," I told her, not wanting to admit to myself that a tiny part of me agreed.

"So do you think you hurt his feelings?" Meghan asked gently.

I nodded, still feeling miserable. "I really do. I'm never one to really think that I have any effect whatsoever on a guy, but he actually seemed hurt."

"Do me a favor," Betsy said airily, waving her arm around in the air dramatically. "Stop talking about yourself in such a negative way, and I won't talk about Stan in a negative way. That way we're both happy. Deal?"

"Sorry. Habit. Yeah, it's a deal."

"Yeah, me too. It's kind of like a tic with me. Stan's an asshole. Whoops, there it goes again. See?"

I shoved her playfully. "You're a dork."

I left Meghan and Betsy's room awhile later feeling much better. As I walked to my next class, small snowflakes started to fall. I stared up at the gray sky and watched them come down. It was the first snowfall of the season. Maybe we would even have a white Christmas. Thinking about Christmas made me yearn for my family. I had to make up what happened on Thanksgiving. I wanted to feel like they accepted Stan, or I would always feel uneasy with them around.

I arrived at my algebra class and settled in my seat, pulling out my homework and smoothing the paper on my desk. Our teacher had the habit of collecting homework immediately after class started, leaving those who would usually straggle and work on it during class screwed. He began the class in his usual abrupt manner, but my mind was not very focused as our teacher tried to go over some equations in class.

I was one of the first to escape after class was adjourned, and I noticed the snow was starting to come down much harder. Big, flat snowflakes swirled around the sky and came down in clumps. It was already starting to accumulate pretty rapidly. I reached into my pockets and pulled some gray gloves on, then made my way to the cafeteria.

I spotted Chris in the pasta line, so I sauntered up behind him and tapped his shoulder. "Excuse me," I said in a deep voice. "You dropped something."

He whirled around, his hands fumbling in his pockets before he caught my gaze. His face broke into a smile that made me melt. "Mal," he whispered, sounding extremely happy to see me.

"Hey," I said. "It's really coming down out there," I continued, nodding toward the windows to the blur of white that was whipping around outside.

"We were supposed to get a huge storm today. Didn't you hear?" he asked.

"No."

"Oh. Well they were saying some classes may even be canceled tomorrow because we're supposed to get over a foot of snow."

"Wow. I didn't know that," I said, glancing outside.

"Did you want to eat lunch? Or do you have plans with your boyfriend?" he asked, with just a hint of bitterness in his voice.

I was surprised by his tone. "No," I mumbled. "He's out of school." _Idiot_, I scolded myself. _Why did you say that?_

Chris merely nodded. "I see."

Lunch was thankfully not as awkward as breakfast. Chris quickly snapped out of his mood, and started cracking jokes as people walked by, making up imaginary thoughts that they were thinking. By the end of the hour, I was nearly reduced to tears.

As we cleared our trays and headed for the door, Chris bumped me with his arm, making me look at him in surprise. He gave me a flirtatious wink that I returned. Stan was not in my thoughts. He was the furthest thing from my mind.

We headed outside and I stopped short as I was blasted in the face by a strong gust of wind that brought a cold showering of snow. I wrapped my scarf as best I could around my hair to keep it from frizzing, and scrambled to get my gloves on.

Chris nudged me from behind. "What's the hold up?" he asked jokingly.

"I have to get this scarf around my head," I replied. "Otherwise you won't want to see what happens when the snow hits my hair."

We finally stepped out into the frigid air, and Chris shoved his gloveless hands in his pockets. "So what would happen?" he asked.

"With what?"

"Your hair. If the snow hits it what happens?"

"Oh right. I'd look like I stuck my finger in an electric socket," I responded, holding my gloved hands over my ears to try to warm them up.

"Oh, I'm sure it wouldn't be that bad," Chris assured me.

I gave him a sideways glance. "Trust me, it would."

"Why are you always so down on yourself?" he asked suddenly.

I stared at him. "What?"

"You heard me. You're always putting yourself down. Why is that?"

I glanced down at the ground, both from embarrassment, and trying to keep the cold wind from hitting my face again. "I don't know," I muttered. Despite the fact that I was looking at the ground, I still somehow managed to trip over a rock (or something) that caused me to jolt forward.

Chris caught me by the arm and helped me stand up right. Some of my hair had slipped out of my scarf and was falling in front of my eye. He gently brushed it away from my face and said, "There you go. Don't want to have a frizz out, now do we?"

My throat felt like sandpaper, rendering me speechless. "Right," I managed to squeak.

We continued to walk when Chris grabbed my arm again. "Hey," he said, looking very serious. His hazel eyes probed into mine.

My heart started to pound. "What?"

"This!" he yelled, and before I could process what was happening, a cold rush of snow fell down my back.

"Chris!" I screeched. "No! Don't!"

He laughed and gathered up another mound of snow. "Come on!" he called out. "Stop worrying about what you're going to look like! Just have fun."

I glared at him, but instantly softened when I saw the playfulness in his eyes. It was infectious. Smiling mischievously, I rolled up a small ball of snow and tossed it at him. He ducked out of the way easily at my poor aim, and came at me again with another snowball. This time he held onto my coat and smashed the snow on my hair, pressing it in for extra effect.

I backed up and toppled over the snow that had already started to blanket the ground, and grabbed Chris's jacket to try to stop myself. No luck. He fell down right on top of me. We both started cracking up, but after a minute, I realized he was staring at me. Soon, neither of us were laughing anymore.

Then Chris leaned in and kissed me square on the lips.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Cheater.

That's what I was.

It was a category I never thought I'd be able to fit myself in. Nothing good could ever come from someone who fit that word. Whether you cheated on a test, your taxes, or your significant other it all equaled bad behavior. Now I was among those that I'd always looked down upon. I was a cheater.

I was seated at the kitchen table with my books spread out before me, working on my algebra homework. Stan was nowhere to be found and he hadn't left a note so I had no clue where he was. To be honest, it was probably better that way. My stomach felt too knotted to try to talk to him right now.

I gazed at my textbook and blinked. The letters and numbers blurred together. I couldn't concentrate. My mind kept replaying the kiss with Chris over and over again. Thinking about it made me feel warm inside. Despite the fact that it only had lasted no more than thirty seconds, it might as well have been an eternity. In that moment, I didn't feel the cold or the swirling snow. I just felt like I was slipping on a favorite pair of blue jeans, I felt comfort. Chris and I seemed to fit together perfectly, and I couldn't deny it.

Which is why it made telling him I couldn't see him again so much harder, because I knew deep down that my feelings for him were real. And the look of hurt and disappointment on his face was currently burned into my brain. I could feel hot tears pricking at the corners of my eyes but I ignored them. It was for the best.

My eyes narrowed in determination as I struggled to finish my homework. For the next hour, I focused on nothing but the problems that were scattered across that textbook and my pencil flew furiously over the page. When I was finally done, I sighed and set my pencil down. The notebook page I was writing on was curled up from the force I had used when I was writing. I slammed my textbook shut and cracked my knuckles.

I got up and wandered into the living room, eager for a distraction. Anything that could keep me from picturing Chris' sweet face in my mind, and his soft lips on mine. I flipped on the television and absentmindedly started watching the _Real World_ on MTV. About halfway through the episode a guy called his girlfriend and tearfully told her he'd hooked up with one of his roommates. It was as if someone was trying to torment me.

My cell phone rang then, and my heart filled with dread as I noticed Stan's name on the small screen. I squared my shoulders and tried to fill my voice with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. "Hey, sweetie!" I chirped, cringing at how false I sounded.

"Hey. I rented some movies and now I'm on my way home and I was going to stop at that pizza place down the street. Large pepperoni sound okay to you?"

"Sure," I replied even though I wasn't the least bit hungry.

"Okay, I'll be home in a few."

"See you soon," I said, clicking my cell phone shut.

I got up and turned the TV off, then replaced my books inside my backpack. There were a couple dishes from that morning left in the sink and I quickly washed and dried them before Stan saw them and flipped out again. Since I really had nothing better to do I got a mop and broom out of the hall closet and started mopping the floor. Stan came home as I was just finishing.

"Hi honey, I'm home!" he called out cheerfully. He stood there, watching me give the floor one last swipe with the mop. "Wow, I come home to find you hard at work! The kitchen looks great sweetie!" He carefully leaned across the floor to kiss my cheek.

I gave him a half-hearted smile, then stepped over the kitchen floor to join him in the living room. "Well I already finished my homework, so I thought I'd surprise you with a nice clean home."

"And surprise you did. I'm so proud of you," he replied, kissing my cheek again. "What else did you do today?"

_Kissed another guy_, I thought to myself glumly. Out loud I said, "Oh, you know, the usual. School. Studying." _Cheating on you_.

He nodded appreciatively. "Wasn't that English project of yours due today?"

Hearing about the project naturally made me think of Chris and I immediately blushed. "Y-yeah, it was," I stammered.

"And?" he asked, looking at me expectantly.

"It went really well. I think I got an A on it."

"That's great! I knew you could do it!" he pulled me close to him and whispered huskily, "We're going to have to celebrate tonight aren't we?"

While in the past that would've sent shivers down my spine, now it just made me feel queasy. I knew exactly what he was talking about, and I didn't know if I could go through the whole sex routine with my mind in the state it was. But I knew if I told him I wasn't feeling well he would probably get suspicious.

I swallowed nervously. "Sounds great," I said unenthusiastically.

He didn't seem to notice my mood. "Well, come on, pizza's on the table."

After having to force two slices down my throat, the last thing I was wanted to do was snuggle on the couch, because I knew what it would eventually have to lead to. Stan turned on the television and made a face. "Were you watching MTV?" he asked in slight disgust. He turned to look at me disapprovingly.

"Yeah."

"Ugh. I don't know how you can watch that trash." He got up and slid one of the DVDs he'd rented into the player.

After the movie, his hand immediately slid up my shirt and for a moment I felt like the pizza was going to make its way back up. It managed to stay down, and pretty soon our clothes were on the floor and we were tangled up in his sheets making love. Stan was feeling especially lovable that night, telling me over and over again how beautiful I was while gently caressing my face. "I love you, Mallory Pike," he whispered into my matted hair when we were finished, putting his cold arm across my bare chest.

Within moments he was asleep, snoring lightly. I rolled over onto my side and stared at the alarm clock. It was just past nine, but I felt exhausted. I wondered what would've happened if I'd said yes to Chris' offer. What would we be doing right now? Would we be watching a movie holding hands, or just getting to know each other over a romantic dinner? I realized with sadness that I would probably never find out what it would be like to go on a date with Chris. I feel asleep hating myself for what I'd done.

* * *

The Sunday before Christmas Eve, I made a decision. I was going to go back to Stoneybrook to see my family, and if Stan didn't like it, tough. I needed to get away from the campus, where nearly everything I saw reminded me of Chris: the library where we studied, the dorm building where we ate lunch, the walkway where he kissed me.

I approached Stan hesitantly. He was engrossed in a football game, and he didn't look up immediately, so I sat down next to him and pretended to be interested in the game.

"Oh come on!" he shouted. "That was not a pass interference! Shit!"

I placed my hand on his and asked, "Sweetie? Do you have a minute?"

He looked at me as if I'd just asked him to go shoe shopping with me. "_Now_?" he asked. "The game's on, can't you see?"

"Yeah, I can see. I just wanted to ask you something."

He eyes returned to the screen. "At halftime."

I sighed and stood up. "While you're up, can you grab me another beer from the fridge?"

I glared at him and stormed into the kitchen, yanking open the door with such force the eggs nearly flew out of their compartment. I grabbed a cold beer can and placed it on the coffee table. "There," I said angrily. "Happy now?"

Stan looked at me, shocked. "I'm not sure I am. I'm definitely not happy about your tone right now, that's for sure." Hardness had crept into his eyes. That same hardness I saw right before he slapped me.

"I'm sorry Stan," I mumbled. Then I scurried out of the room before he could do anything to hurt me again.

I went into the guest room and started setting aside some clothes for Stoneybrook. I folded a pretty red sweater dress that I'd planned to wear on Christmas and place it in my duffel bag. Stan came in a few moments later and noticed my packing. "What the hell are you doing? You're leaving again?"

I glanced at him, staring down at me and trying to appear menacing. I didn't want to back down. "I'm packing for Stoneybrook. I want to be with my family for Christmas. I would love it if you could join me."

Stan sighed. "Why do you want to visit them?" he moaned. "Your parents are a bunch of jerks. You saw how they treated me; they obviously don't like me or care to give me a chance, so what's the point in going there?"

I could feel my lip trembling. "The point is I would like to be able to spend a family holiday with my family. I miss them."

He sat down next to me on the floor. "But I'm your family too, aren't I? Wouldn't you rather have a nice quiet Christmas, just the two of us?"

"Stan, I grew up with a big family. I don't think I can do a quiet Christmas."

"Well damn it Mallory, I don't want to see your fucking family!" he shouted, his face turning red and his eyes blazing.

"You don't have to," I said quietly. "I will go by myself…but please let me do this. It would really mean a lot to me. I miss them so much." I was surprised when tears started streaming down my cheeks, and I realized just how much I wanted to see them.

Stan finally softened, and cradled me in his arms. "Shhh," he whispered into my hair. "I'm sorry I didn't know it meant so much to you." He sighed deeply. "Look, we can go. And I promise I'll behave this time."

My heart soared and I threw my arms around him. "Thank you!" I squealed. "You won't regret this I promise!" A huge grin was spread across my face.

In comparison, Stan's expression remained dark. "I better not," he muttered.

* * *

The drive to Stoneybrook was wild. Either Stan drove fast because he wanted to get the whole holiday over with, or he was nervous. I figured it was the former.

"Well, here we are again," he grumbled, as the car screeched to a stop in front of my parents' house.

I ignored his grumpiness. I pressed my face to the window excitedly. My parents had pulled out their usual decorations, with the big Santa and his reindeer on the lawn, and the green and red "Happy Holidays" sign on the garage door. Colored lights lined the windows and the roof, and there were lighted red candles in each of the windows. The place looked fantastic.

I bustled out of the car and grabbed the big bags of presents I'd lovingly wrapped, spending all of my savings in my attempts to make it up to my family. I'd even went and gotten Stan the same sweater as before, hoping it would make him see just how much I cared, and how much he meant to me. It made me wonder what he had gotten for me.

Stan grabbed one of the bags out of my hands and I saw him slip something into it. I felt a ripple of excitement. It seemed like a small present, which could only mean one thing: jewelry! We walked to the door and I pressed the door bell. Jordan opened the door, dressed in a red and green plaid shirt and dark khaki pants. I'm sure he despised his outfit, but my mother always liked for us to dress up on Christmas. I was wearing my sweater dress and low brown heels. I'd even convinced Stan to wear a button down blue shirt and black slacks. I couldn't get him to wear a tie, but at least I got him to let me iron his clothes. Stan didn't really care how wrinkled his clothes looked.

"Hey guys, Mallory brought presents!" Jordan yelled. He graciously took our bags from us, but Stan held on tight to his. The rest of the kids came running into the living room to give hugs and squeals. Stan actually hugged the girls and shook hands with the boys, and for a moment I felt a glimmer of hope that the evening just might go well after all. Maybe Stan really would try to be on his best behavior.

Finally, my mom came into the living room, looking radiant in an off-the-shoulder cranberry sweater and a black skirt. She had on her fluffy black slippers instead of high heels, and I figured was because she was still cooking. She was wearing an apron that we'd gotten at the mall once, which had a picture of all us kids silk screened onto it.

"Mallory!" she exclaimed, crossing the living room to envelop me in a giant hug. She left the lingering smell of her perfume on me and I inhaled deeply, realizing how much I missed that smell. She held her hand out pleasantly to Stan. "And Stan, it's nice to see you again. Merry Christmas!"

Stan, with a look of slight surprise on his face, took her hand. "Nice to see you again, too, Dee." He smiled, as if he was pleased with himself that he hadn't called her ma'am.

I heard my father's deep voice call me from the rec room, and moments later he came into the living room and gave me a hug. "You look great, honey," he said. He too, turned to Stanley and held out his hand without any traces of bitterness or anger. "Hello, Stanley…er, Stan. How have you been?"

"Just fine, John. Merry Christmas!" Stan said, sounding genuine.

Watching the whole scene made my heart fill with glee. Stan was trying, and my parents were trying. I knew they were both only doing it for me and not for the fact that they truly wanted to get to know each other but it was still something. They were trying, and that's all that mattered.

I went into the kitchen to help my mother with the dinner, and Vanessa followed us. Margo and Claire headed upstairs to finish what they called "an intense rematch of Battleship", and the triplets, Nicky, my dad, and Stan all went into the rec room to play video games. I wondered if it was Grand Theft Auto again, but figured it wasn't since my dad was there.

"He seems much nicer this time around," my mother couldn't help but comment as soon as we stepped into the kitchen.

"He's trying," I replied carefully. "And thanks to you both for trying too."

"Mallory, obviously this guy means something to you. If he's going to be a part of our family, we've got to get past our differences and come together."

"I agree," I replied happily, chopping some vegetables for a quick salad.

"Mal, I'm so glad you're back," Vanessa said. "We've missed you so much."

"I've missed you guys, too."

After my mother assured us that she had the rest under control, Vanessa and I headed into the dining room to set the table. Vanessa lowered her voice to barely a whisper and said, "Hey, Mal, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

"What's that?" I asked, taking our good china out of the china cabinet. I handed her a stack of plates and started placing my own on the table.

"Well," she said hesitantly, as if she wasn't sure how to put what she wanted to say into words. She prefaced her question by asking, "Promise you won't get mad?"

"That's usually code for something that's going to upset me," I said lightly, but then caught her glance and quickly added, "Okay, I promise."

"How old is Stan, really?"

My breath caught in my throat. For some reason I'd forgotten about that. My family still thought he was a senior in college. Heck, even Meghan and Betsy still thought the same thing. I hadn't even told anyone of my findings, and now I was faced with a dilemma. I didn't want to lie to Vanessa, but I didn't want her to blab it to everyone.

I glanced around furtively before dropping my own voice. "Okay, you make me a promise now. What I'm about to say stays between us, got it?" For the fun of it, I stuck out my pinky. "Pinky swear?"

Vanessa gave me an odd glance, but hooked her pinky with mine anyway. "Pinky swear," she replied solemnly. "Now spill."

I sighed. Did I really want to do this? I realized there was no turning back now. I busied myself by placing the silverware by the plates. "He's twenty-seven," I whispered finally. "He'll be twenty-eight in April."

"_What?_" screeched Vanessa, then immediately looked guilty. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I knew it, though. You could tell he wasn't really how old he told us he was."

I felt like a moron. Even my own sister hadn't been fooled like I was. Maybe I was just blinded by my own infatuation with him. "I didn't actually know how old he was at first. When I came here on Thanksgiving, I really thought he was a senior. It wasn't until–" I stopped short, realizing what I was almost about to say: "until he slapped me." I licked my lips nervously, "Uh, until I found something that showed his real age. Believe me, I was really mad at him for lying to me, especially since I'd had this sinking feeling the whole time. I guess I just didn't want to believe it, you know?"

Vanessa looked shocked. "Wow," she replied breathily. "Why did he lie?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't really know. Maybe he thought if I knew the big age difference between us I wouldn't want to be with him."

"Well, I don't know about you, but if I guy I was with lied to be about something that major, I'd kick his ass to the curb."

I giggled. "I was upset, trust me. I even spent a couple nights at a motel," I said, even though there were other reasons for my leaving. She didn't have to know about those.

"So are you really still living with him?" she asked conspiratorially. I figured my parents had to have told everyone why we fought, and what caused us to leave on Thanksgiving.

"Yeah, I am. But look, Vanessa, if you tell _anyone_ what I just told you, you're dead."

"Okay, okay, I get the point. Your secret is safe with me," she vowed.

"What secret?" my mother asked, walking into the room with a steaming plate of mashed potatoes. She set them in the middle of the table and looked at me.

I thought quickly. "What I got you guys for Christmas," I said in a rush. Then I glanced at Vanessa. "Remember, don't tell," I said, wagging my finger at her.

"Vanessa, really. You know we now open our presents on Christmas Eve, anyway. Can't you wait a few hours?" my mother looked at her disapprovingly.

"I guess not," she said, winking at me. "Don't worry, Mal. I won't tell."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

After all the presents had been doled out, my parents turned to Claire to let her go first. The kids always got to open their presents first, one at a time from youngest to oldest until they were all gone. Then the adults opened theirs (to not much of an audience since by this time the kids are already off playing with their new toys).

Now that all of the kids know the truth about Santa Claus, we get to open our presents on Christmas Eve. On Christmas Day, my mother makes her famous pancake people, which she used to make for us as kids. It's the one day a year she doesn't make just regular pancakes, so it's always a special treat.

Claire ripped out the red and green striped wrapping paper and revealed a movie I guess she wanted. She started waving it around and squealing, so I couldn't really tell the title. She tossed it aside and sprang up to her feet to give our parents a hug and kiss. Margo went next and opened up a beautiful turquoise sweater. She seemed appreciative, but usually kids want toys, not clothes. The sweater was instantly tossed aside and forgotten a moment later as she eagerly looked among her stack of presents to what could contain a toy. The rest of the kids then took turns opening their gifts, with Nicky receiving a skateboard, Vanessa getting a makeup set, and the triplets getting different video games for each of them.

Once the kids' gifts were all opened, they actually tried to sit for the adults' turn to open gifts, but they didn't last longer than me opening an iPod from my parents. "Thanks!" I said excitedly, immediately taking it out of its package.

Stan opened his sweater from me, and then leaned over to give me a chaste kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, sweetie."

I was eager to open up his gift, and I suddenly grew impatient as my dad opened the ties I got him, and my mom opened perfume from all the kids. Finally it was my turn again. "I wonder what this is," I said, as I plucked Stan's gift from the floor. I glanced at him to try to see any traces of what it could be, but his face remained expressionless. I daintily tore the wrapping paper off of end and peeled it back to reveal a long velvet box. My heart began to pound, and I lifted the box and saw a simple gold necklace with a tiny flower charm. "It's beautiful," I breathed honestly, and I struggled to get it on.

I turned to my mom, lifting my hair so she could get the clasp. The necklace hung neatly along my collarbone, ending at just the right spot above what little cleavage I had. I faced Stan to show the necklace off. He gave me an appreciative glance, but he didn't offer any real compliments, which was a bit of a disappointment.

I thought it was very nice of my parents to get Stan a little something, and he approached the present with uncertainty, as if he were afraid it was a bomb that would explode. It turned out to be a perfectly nice white collared shirt. "For when you break out into the real world of work next year," my mother said with a tight smile. "I guessed at your size, but there's a gift receipt in there in case it doesn't fit."

I could tell that the present immediately annoyed Stan, but I gave him credit (I guess) for letting the feeling pass quickly before replacing his annoyance with a smile and thanking my parents as genuinely as he possibly could.

When all the presents were opened, and we were left with the mountains of torn wrapping paper that once concealed our expression of love for one another in a gift box form, my father and Stan went to the rec room to join the boys for another round of video games, and I helped my mother clean up the mess. "Isn't that always the way?" my mother commented, stooping to big up some green wrapping paper with candy canes on it.

I smiled at her. "Always leaving us to clean up the mess?" I asked knowingly.

"No. Stan getting you a present that _seems_ like the right thing to get, but not putting any meaning into it at all. "

* * *

The next day I got up early and tiptoed downstairs where I could hear clattering in the kitchen. My mother was already pouring some batter onto the griddle, dressed in a baby blue robe and matching slippers.

"Morning," I said, wiping the sleep from my eyes.

I didn't bring up her comment from last night. It bothered me, but I also knew that she was probably still a little upset with Stan, and to be honest I probably was too. Still, I didn't necessarily agree with her. He had gotten me a beautiful necklace; how could that not have meaning?

Vanessa stumbled into the kitchen moments later, and wordlessly slipped into the dining room to set the table. I was aiding my mother as she slid the finished pancake people off the griddle and onto the huge platter I was holding.

I carried the finished pancakes into the dining room and started to place them on the green ceramic plates Vanessa was laying out. "Nice necklace," she said, glancing at me. I hadn't taken the necklace off because I wanted to show Stan just how much I appreciated it. Despite what my mother said, I think it held plenty of meaning.

"Thanks," I replied, wondering for a moment if she was being serious or sarcastic.

I heard tiny footsteps behind me and I saw Claire come in and take her usual seat before resting her head on the table. I suppressed the urge to laugh. It was funny how she would manage to get up before all of us on Christmas Day when she was younger, and could now barely stay awake. "Good morning, sunshine," I greeted her.

She mumbled what I supposed was a reply, followed by a much more audible, "The pancake smell woke me up."

The rest of the family soon followed, filtering into the kitchen and waiting eagerly to be able to dig into their pancakes. It was only after almost everyone was seated that I noticed Stan was missing.

"Mal, do you want to wake up Stan and let him know breakfast is ready?" Mom asked, coming into the dining room with a gravy boat filled with warm maple syrup.

I ran into the rec room and stood by the fold out couch. Stan was sprawled out, dead to the world, snoring loudly. I nudged the bed gently, but Stan didn't stir. "Stan?" I said. Nothing. "Stan?" I tried again, louder this time.

He opened one eye, looked at me, then squeezed it shut again. "What?" he asked.

"Breakfast is ready, and we're all waiting for you."

"I'm not hungry."

"Come on, Stan. You know I told you that this is a tradition in my family. My mother always makes her pancake people and I'd like you to join us."

Stan rolled over and said, "First of all, the key words are 'your family', which doesn't include me. Second, what the hell are you? Twelve? You want me to get up at the crack of dawn to eat some stupid _pancake_ people?"

I raised my chin defiantly, willing myself not to get upset. "Yes," I replied. "I would like that very much."

Stan sighed deeply, then slowly pushed himself up. "I can't believe I'm doing this shit," I heard him mutter. He swung his legs around the side the bed and got up. "Let's get this show on the road," he said, sounding like he was about to spend three hours at the opera.

_At least he's coming_, I told myself, as my thoughts drifted to Chris. He probably wouldn't complain about eating pancake people.

I gave everyone a sheepish smile on Stan's behalf. "It looks like the fold out couch is more comfortable than we thought!" I said, hoping to brighten him up.

Everyone let out an appreciative chuckle, with the exception of Stan, who grumbled but didn't say anything. He slumped into an empty chair and propped his head up on his elbows, as if trying to keep from nodding off.

Thankfully, the rest of the meal went by smoothly, although this was probably because Stan said exactly three words, and that was to ask Margo to pass the syrup.

After breakfast, Stan pulled me aside and whispered, "When do you want to leave?"

I stared at him, shocked. "Not right now," I replied. "It's Christmas Day after all. I was thinking we could head back tomorrow morning. It's not like I have school this week."

"Well, some of us have to work, you know."

It was the first time he actually spoke about work. I don't try to hide my surprise. "You've never mentioned work before," I said.

"Well, I guess I can't really pretend that I'm spending my days in class now, can I?"

His words came out harsh and cold. I flinched. "I'm just wondering when all this happened," I said.

"It's a new development," he replied, with an odd smile on his face.

"So what do you do now?"

"What does it matter? I got a job now don't I?" Then he catches himself. "Look, I work in construction. It gives me the ability to work when I want. I make enough money to live off for a few months, and then I go to work again. It's very flexible."

I briefly wondered how you could be in construction without having any actual muscle definition, but then chided myself for thinking mean thoughts. Outwardly, I merely nodded and told him we could leave later that afternoon if he had to work the next day.

We joined my family in the living room. They were already seated watching _A Christmas Story_, which was playing all day on TV as it usually does on Christmas Day.

After the movie, Stan got up and made a big show of stretching. "What a great movie! Whaddya say we hit the road now, Mallory? We should try to head back early to beat traffic." He looked at me as if to say "Don't you dare disagree with me."

My mother gave me a disapproving stare, but she didn't say anything.

"Um, yeah, you're right," I said, not sounding very convincing. I could feel the anger and disappointment build up inside me. Hadn't I told him we would leave later in the afternoon? Why did he have to go and try to ruin another holiday with my family?

Stan and I were on the road no more than an hour later. I was sullen for half the ride before Stan finally decided to talk to me. "What's wrong with you?" he asked. As if he didn't know.

"Nothing," I muttered. I didn't want to lose my temper with him. I didn't want to trigger another slap. Unfortunately, I was so frustrated with him I was having a tough time keeping my emotions in check.

"Are you pissed that we had to leave early?"

I continued to stare out the window silently.

"Mallory! Come on, quit being such a baby and talk to me!"

"Yes I'm mad!" I shouted, unable to hold it in any longer. "I'm mad because you knew how much this meant to me! I'm mad because I feel like this is another holiday that I've left my parents feeling disappointed in me! And I'm mad because you don't seem to give a shit about me or my family!"

"Look, I came didn't I? You said you wanted to spend Christmas with your family and you did! What more do you want?"

I sighed. "Nothing," I said, going back to staring at the window.

He yanked at my arm and forced me to look at him. "Don't turn away from me," he said warningly. "You better stop being such a little bitch."

If I was a smart girl, I would've stopped right then and there. If I wasn't so heated up already, I would've just muttered an apology and pretended everything was fine. But I was way beyond being reasonable at that point. "Oh yeah? And what if I don't? Are you gonna smack me again? Because that's your solution to everything right?"

I knew the instant the words were out of my mouth I'd gone too far. "Why you little—" He veered the car over to the side of the road, in the breakdown lane. Several cars behind us honked, and Stan merely held up his middle finger until he got to the side of the road. "You think you're really tough don't you?" he said, coming so close to me I could still smell syrup on his breath.

Suddenly, I realized I was terrified. What had I done? I cowered toward the door. "I'm sorry," I started lamely. I started to furiously back pedal from my earlier comments.

But the damage had already been done. Stan was furious. He grabbed my wrists forcefully and shook me. "Why do you make me do this to you, Mallory? Why?"

He smacked me hard. I fell back against the door, clutching my face. I could already feel a welt start to form. My eye started to swell, not allowing the tears to squeeze out. I felt his hand come down again, this time behind my head. "Stan, stop!" I yelled.

"Why do you make me do this?" he shouted again. I looked up just in time to see him raise his hand. I cringed, bracing myself. He lowered his hand and exhaled noisily. "Mallory, I—oh my god, what have I done? Mallory, honey, please—" He gently put a hand on my arm but I shook him away.

"Don't," I said. "Just drive."

The drive was endless. My head and cheek throbbed. I sniffled, tears silently slipping down my cheeks and spilling onto the hands that were pressed in my lap. I had to leave him, I decided. I couldn't keep up with this behavior anymore.

Stan pulled into a parking space outside his apartment and turned to me. He appeared resolute for a moment, but then he narrowed his eyes. "Now you listen to me, Mallory. I didn't mean to hit you again, but don't go running and telling your little friends about this. Or worse, the cops. Because if you do, trust me, you'll be sorry. You won't say anything now, will you?"

I stared at him, too afraid to even speak. I shook my head.

"That's my girl. You're still my girl aren't you?"

I nodded.

"Remember your promise?"

I looked at him, unsure of what he meant. Slowly, I shook my head again.

"You told me you would never leave me. Remember now?"

I nodded.

"I like people who keep their promises. If you break your promise, you'll just make me mad. Now, we can work this out. You just have to be a good girl. Can you do that?'

I nodded.

"Good. I love you, Mallory."

_Merry Christmas_, I thought to myself miserably.

* * *

Somehow, I managed to keep it together through the night. I felt as if I was walking in a haze. I can't make eye contact with Stan. I just went through the motions and pretended I didn't feel violently ill when he put his arm around me, or caressed my face. "We'll have to take care of that," he said when he touched my cheek.

I turned away ever so slightly. "I don't blame you for being upset with me. But you have to know how much I love you Mallory. I don't mean to hurt you, it's just you get me so mad sometimes. You understand, right?"

I nodded again, because it was the only thing that I could do to appease him.

I managed to find my voice for a second. "Is it okay if I sleep in the guest room?"

He looked at me and ran his finger along my jaw line. I shivered. "Of course."

I made an excuse to go to bed early, telling him I didn't feel well. Then I shuffled into the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. The gigantic red welt on my face stood out, forcing me to look away. I took my contacts out and splashed my face with water, feeling the sting as it hits my cheek.

I crept into Stan's room and removed a blanket and a pillow from the bed the tiptoed down the hall into the guest room. I settled on the blanket and stared at the ceiling for a long time. Then I rolled over and cried myself to sleep.

* * *

I kept my promise to Stan. I didn't tell Meghan or Betsy. I didn't even tell the cops. He didn't say anything about not telling Chris.

I marched to his dorm, ignoring some not so subtle stares from passersby. I knocked on his door. "Mallory!" he exclaimed as he threw open the door. "What are you doing here? I didn't think we were supposed to talk to each other." He stopped, taking me in. "What happened?" he asked. "Did you hit a table again?"

"Can we talk?" I asked, avoiding his questions.

He gave me a curious look, but shrugged. "Yeah, hold on, let me get a jacket."

Moments later we were walking the campus, the backs of our hands brushing against each other. I instantly felt comforted.

"Stan hit me," I said quietly, keeping my eyes on the floor.

Chris stopped walking. "He what?" he asked.

"He hit me," I repeated. "That's what happened to my face. Last time too."

Chris started to shake. "Are you kidding me?"

"No."

"And you're still with him?"

I let out a pitiful whimper. "It's a long story."

Chris grabbed my hand. "Mallory, listen to me. No one should ever make you feel as if you deserve to be hit. Do you hear me? This guy is an asshole, and you need to leave him as soon as possible."

"He threatened me!" I wailed, feeling myself lose control again.

"Then you go to the cops," Chris said calmly.

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because," I said, realizing I didn't really have an answer. I didn't want to go to the cops. Something was holding me back. "Please," I continued, turning to him with pleading eyes. "Please, just keep this between us."

Chris stared at me for a long time. Then he reached out and touched my face. His touch was warm and made my insides all mushy. "Oh, Mallory," he whispered. "I could just punch this guy for doing this to you."

Tears streamed down my cheeks. I could feel myself giving in. "Can you hold me?" I asked desperately. "I just want to feel safe for a minute."

Chris put his arms around me wordlessly. "I would always protect you," he said into my hair. "You deserve better, Mallory, you know that."

I nodded, letting the tears continue to fall. I turned to him. "I know that Chris, but please, just respect my wishes on this."

Chris turned my face towards him. My heart started to beat faster. "I can't see you like this," he said quietly. "I…I care about you Mallory. It kills me inside to think that you're hurting. I just want the hurting to stop, and I plan on doing anything I can to make sure that happens." He leaned down and kissed my lips gently.

I literally felt myself melt into him. I kissed him insistently, craving his soft lips. It feels so different than kissing Stan. His kiss is tender and warm, not wet and cold. "Mallory," Chris murmured. "Mallory, I need to be with you."

I kept kissing him, reaching behind him and putting my hand behind his head, pulling him closer to me. Everything felt so perfect; I wanted to kiss him forever. Things were changed now, and I knew that in that moment I wouldn't be able to stop seeing Chris. I wouldn't be able to stop wanting to kiss him and feel him all over me. In that moment, I knew I was beginning an affair, whether I wanted to admit it to myself or not.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

**Chapter Fifteen**

"What's been going on with you lately?" Betsy demanded.

"What do you mean?" I asked casually, nodding politely at the cafeteria worker as he handed me my soup. Of course, I knew exactly what she meant. Over the past few weeks, I'd done nothing but lie. To everyone. I hated myself and what I'd become, but I had no other choice. It was getting harder and harder to sneak out to see Chris, so my lies had to become more and more desperate.

I blew off Betsy and Meghan quite a bit, which of course made them upset with me. They knew I wasn't with Stan, but they didn't know who or what was taking up all of my time. I finally realized I should at least go to lunch with them before they told Stan that I wasn't with them, as I sometimes said I was. "Studying," I would say. That was really the one excuse that allowed me to get out of the house quickly and without question.

"Can't you just tell us where you've been?" Meghan asked gently.

I shook my head. "It's complicated," I answered, feeling terrible. I had told myself many times that I was alienating the only true friends I'd ever had since I'd arrived at college. Was it worth it? Was sneaking away to see Chris worth it? I immediate thump my heart gave as soon as I thought of his face gave me my answer.

"I'm really sorry," I continued, burning my tongue with my soup. "It's not that I don't trust you guys, I just need my privacy on this, that's all. Why don't we hang out this weekend, though? We can go to The Corner just like old times!"

Meghan started to nod, but Betsy just frowned. "What about the warden? How's he going to let you out?"

Now it was my turn to frown. "I wish you wouldn't call him that," I said. "Look, I'm asking you guys to hang out, so that means I can go." I didn't tell them that I was actually going to be on my own this weekend. Stan's construction job had him working at a site a few towns away. The company was going to pay for his hotel and expenses the two nights he would be gone. I was thrilled when he'd told me, although he didn't seem very happy about it. "I don't want to leave my girl," he'd said, running his finger along my cheek.

I'd gotten pretty good at not reacting to Stan's touch, or to some of the things he said. I'd almost become a robot around him. There hadn't been another incident since Christmas morning, but at this point I knew better. He felt bad, of course, and was putting in extra effort to be nice to me. Of course, that would wear off and then he would get right back to his controlling self. I would lie awake so many nights, unable to sleep while Stan snored beside me, wondering how I'd gotten myself into such a terrible mess. _Just leave him_, I would tell myself time and time again. It seemed like such an obvious answer. Anyone on the outside of my situation would wonder why I hadn't left him already.

Betsy and Meghan didn't bother to argue about him with me anymore. They knew he wasn't going anywhere for awhile. They would drop their comments every now and then, letting me know just how much they disapproved. I had to admit that I trusted Meghan just a tiny bit more than Betsy. While I adored them both, Betsy was definitely more impulsive, and she said what was on her mind without really thinking about it. I realized that she kind of reminded me of Kristy, the president of the Baby-Sitters Club I was once a part of. Meghan, the quieter of the two, reminded me of Mary Anne, who was Kristy's best friend and the complete opposite of her.

One day last week, I'd stopped by Meghan and Betsy's room to try and make up for my absences. Betsy was at class, but Meghan and I had had our first heart to heart, and I'd actually told her some secrets about my relationship with Stan. Not that he hit me, but just the feelings of despair that would often cross my mind.

"So why don't you leave him?" she'd asked simply.

"Because I'm afraid," I answered, surprised at my honesty. It was a secret that I'd held deep down when I really thought about what it was that kept me with Stan. It was a secret that I hadn't even really admitted to myself, let alone out loud.

"What are you afraid of?" she asked quietly, putting her hand on mine.

"That he'll hurt me if I leave him."

* * *

"Is everything okay?" Chris asked, taking my hand as he led me into the restaurant. It was Friday night, and Stan had left for his job that afternoon. He would return on Sunday afternoon, which gave me two glorious nights to myself. I'd planned to spend the whole weekend with Chris, but I realized I couldn't keep shutting my friends out of my life. As promised, we were going to spend Saturday night at The Corner, where I would hurry back to Stan's apartment and tidy up the place before he arrived the next afternoon, just to make it seem as if I'd spent my whole weekend there.

Luckily, Chris understood the change in plans. "There's nothing like time with your friends," he'd told me. "Don't worry about it, we'll just make Friday night extra special." He'd winked, sending shivers down my spine.

As soon as Stan left, warning me to "be good", I raced into the bedroom to get ready for my date. I had already decided on what I wanted to wear, and even though Chris wasn't picking me up for a couple of hours, I knew I needed that time to make myself look perfect, particularly with my hair. It was supposed to be absolutely frigid that evening, so I wanted to look as sexy as possible while still staying warm. I'd chosen a pair of gray slacks with a dark turquoise V-neck sweater. I ironed my pants and put them on immediately, loving the feel of the warm fabric against my skin. I slipped my sweater over my head, wearing a matching tank top underneath for the needed layers. I'd already showered and blown my hair straight, and I plugged in a flat iron that I'd managed to buy with my savings and started on my make up while it heated up.

Thirty minutes later, I appraised myself in the mirror. I looked…not bad. My makeup was simple and fresh, and I had cute earrings dangling from my ears that matched my sweater. My hair was smooth and sleek for once it my life. I don't know what I'd done, but it definitely looked the best I'd ever seen it.

Chris' reaction to seeing me when he first picked me up was priceless. His eyes nearly bugged out of his skull. "Wow," he breathed. "You look absolutely gorgeous."

"Gorgeous" was never a word I thought would be fit to describe me. I was average at my best, plain at my worst, but never anything else. Gorgeous was what you would use to describe movie stars, not me. However, it was a fantastic compliment to receive and I smiled gratefully. "Thanks," I replied.

Now here we were, seated at the restaurant, with Chris seemingly unable to take his eyes off me. "You look really fantastic," he said again, for oh, the sixth time. It didn't matter; I could hear him tell me that all night.

We placed our order and Chris reached over the table and took my hand in his. "Tonight is going to be special," he promised. "I can't believe we're going to spend a whole night together. I've been looking forward to this all week."

I smiled thinly, despite feeling uneasy. I'd felt this way ever since I'd started seeing Chris. I was always looking around furtively, afraid that somehow Stan would appear out of nowhere and see me. Chris and I already had a few disagreements about our situation. Naturally, he didn't like feeling the "other man". I could see the disappointment in his eyes constantly; it would flicker over his face and cloud his handsome features. Even now as I looked at him I could see his mind was elsewhere.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked him.

"Just how much I wish we could be together," he answered.

"We _are_ together," I pointed out.

"You know what I mean. We're not together, Mallory." He suddenly got very serious, and I suddenly didn't like where the conversation was headed. It was a conversation we'd had a few times before, and it usually didn't end well.

I sighed. "I know," I said. "It's just…"

"It's just what?" he pressed. "Honestly, what is keeping you with him, Mal? What redeeming qualities could he possibly have?"

I trusted Chris. He was special to me, and I felt I should finally share part of what kept me with Stan. "Look, he had a rough childhood," I began. "His father left him when he was a baby, and his mother had to raise him by herself. Unfortunately, it took its toll on her body and she passed away when he was still pretty young. He had to live with a foster family, where the father abused him. They sent him back to the foster hall and he ran way, living on his own."

I expected Chris to tell me he understood, but instead he just looked doubtful. "And you believed this story?" he asked.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Of course I believed it! Why would he make something like that up?" Chris just stared at me, and I knew what he was getting at. "You think he made it up to keep me with him out of sympathy?"

"I wouldn't put it past him. He's clearly manipulative enough to do it. Tell me, when did he tell you this sad sob story?"

I frowned. He had told me the day after he'd hit me, right after I met Chris. He certainly knew I was mad at him…no, it couldn't be. He was trying to tell me what had caused his irrational behavior, that was all. Besides, it was a terrible story to make up if that was the case. Still, I didn't want to lie to Chris. "He told me after he hit me the first time," I said.

"The day we met," Chris whispered, and I nodded. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. "Well, that makes perfect sense, don't you think?"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," I said suddenly.

"Why not? Because now you're having doubts?"

"No. I believe him Chris, I do. Somewhere in there is a confused little boy who never got to live the childhood he should have. It messed with his mind, and knowing that, what kind of person would I be to just desert him?"

"A smart one."

Now I was starting to get angry, which I didn't want. This was supposed to be our special night, our first night together. We weren't supposed to be arguing. "I don't want to fight tonight," I told him. "Tonight should be about us, not him."

"There _is_ no us, Mal!" he exclaimed, a little louder than necessary. "Don't you see? That's what I'm trying to say! How can we enjoy this evening when it's not even based on reality? It's based on a lie and I don't want that." He paused, then looked around the restaurant. He lowered his voice. "I'm not very hungry, are you?"

I had to admit that I really wasn't either. As soon as our waiter walked by Chris told him to cancel our orders, gave him a few dollars for the sodas we had and we left. He took my hand when we went outside, which eased my fears that at least he wasn't completely angry with me. "Let's go to your place," he suggested.

A wave of paranoia passed over me, but I let it go. Stan was far away, I told myself. He wasn't coming back. "Okay," I agreed.

When we got to the apartment I held my breath before unlocking the door. I heard silence on the other end, and I sighed with relief. We sat down on the couch and faced each other. "Mallory, I care about you. You know that," Chris began. "But how long do you expect to go on like this? I mean, we can't sneak around forever. Tell me something, are you ever planning on leaving Stan?"

I thought about it for a moment. Even though it was a question I'd asked myself a million times I still didn't really have an answer. Part of me did feel bad for Stan, and what he went through. I wanted to help him, to try and let him get over his past and see that it was affecting him in a negative way. I wanted to try and change him and make him a better person, because there were plenty of times when I saw the person that he could be shine through. The other part of me was truly afraid of him, and what he'd do if I left. I'd made my promise to him, and as silly as it sounded, I didn't want to break that promise. What I'd told Meghan that day was true: I was afraid he would hurt me.

I don't really tell all of this to Chris. "I'm not sure," I said finally. It was the truth. I didn't know what the future held for us.

"Then what did you think would happen with us?" he asked. "Is this something you're taking seriously, or is this just some fling for you?"

I grabbed his hand. "Of course it's serious!" I exclaimed passionately. "I care about you Chris, and you mean a lot to me."

"But does Stan mean more?" he asked, looking at me intently.

"You can't ask me that!"

"Why not?"

I sighed. "Chris, I'm very confused about this whole thing. I feel so conflicted about everything, I just don't know."

"Mallory, this is very hard for me to say, but I don't think we should see each other anymore. At least not until you figure out what you want."

Tears instantly filled my eyes. "Chris please don't say that."

He kissed my cheek, then stood up. "I have to," he said. "It's the best thing for us right now. We can't be together under these conditions."

Tears were streaming down my cheeks. This wasn't how the night was supposed to be. It seemed as if Chris had already made up his mind, though. And in a way, he was right. I had to figure out what I was going to do before I could be with him.

"I'll see you around, Mallory," he called from the door. Then he was gone.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: I know it's been absolutely forever since I've updated, but I've had a lot going on with work and life in general, and to be perfectly honest, I was questioning the direction I'd originally wanted my story to go. The more I started to tell Mallory's story, the more I realized I wanted to go differently, which was difficult, because I'd already set it up to cross with In Love and War. After tons and tons of thought and mental revisions, I am now happy with what I have set up, and it will still fall neatly into place with In Love and War. On a minor side note, one of my favorite real life authors is Emily Giffin and I nearly flipped my lid when I saw she'd come out with a book titled "Love the One You're With"! So it was cool to know that I shared a title with a really great author. At any rate, now that things have settled my updates will hopefully become more regular. I give thanks again to those that reviewed and provided motivation during my long absence, and hope you all enjoy whats to come! mel5224

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen**

As the weeks dragged by and spring drew closer, I found myself withdrawing more and more from the people around me. I spent nearly all my time at the library, (even when I wasn't working), and I now only saw Betsy and Meghan in passing. Of course, Betsy was busy with David, who'd finally worked up the nerve to ask her out, and Meghan had been asked to join the volleyball team and was at practice nearly every day.

This is what I told myself to make myself feel better. _They're busy, so it's not like they're missing you_, I would think. It didn't help to ease the sting of the thought that I could lose the only friends I'd managed to make while at Cameron.

Chris was a completely different story. He acted as if we were strangers. I might as well have been another nameless face in the crowd as far as he was concerned. I tried not to obsess about it, but it was hard. I wondered if his behavior was anger over the fact that I wouldn't leave Stan, or merely disgust with me in general. I felt a dull ache in my chest whenever I saw him, but I forced myself to act as he did. Indifferent.

Unfortunately, he'd recently managed to get a job at the library, where avoiding him would be pretty much impossible. One sunny March afternoon Richard assigned us both to file three carts stacked with history and art books. While a few weeks ago I would've been thrilled at the opportunity to spend a few hours alone with him, I now dreaded it. What would be talk about? I'd gotten so good at not speaking him I didn't even know how to behave in his presence anymore.

I pushed my cart along silently, while Chris pushed his behind me until we reached the elevator. The elevators in the library are absolutely huge, and could probably fit about twenty people. I situated myself as far back as I could, to allow Chris to fit in with his cart. The ride up to the third floor was utterly silent, but as soon as the elevator dinged, Chris whirled around and said, "Look, I'm not mad at you, okay? Let's just make these next few hours go by as smoothly as possible."

For whatever reason, despite the fact that he was being perfectly reasonable, he struck a nerve. "Well, you're sure acting like you're mad," I snapped.

Chris sighed and wheeled his cart out and I followed, heading for the art section. I heard the squeaky wheels of Chris' cart behind me and picked up my pace. I heard Chris say "Oh no, you don't", before jogging along next to me and stopping in front of me where he could block my path. I realized I was breathing heavily, and I didn't know if it was from the weight of the cart or just being near him. "Move," I ordered, trying to maneuver my cart around him.

Chris held out both hands, and pressed one against the wall and the other against one of the bookshelves. "Mallory, we are going to settle this now whether you like it or not."

"Not," I muttered, but I folded my arms across my chest and looked at him expectantly.

Chris appeared hesitant, as if he wasn't sure what he wanted to say. He sighed again. "Mallory, I'm not mad at you. I just want you to know that."

"I know, you made that clear in the elevator," I said icily. I wasn't sure exactly why I was so mad, but I was. All I knew at that moment was that being there with Chris hurt more than any of the times Stan had hit me and I was channeling that hurt into anger. "Now if that's all you had to say, I have some books to shelve." I started to push my cart forward again but Chris stayed put.

"No, that's _not_ all I have to say," he said, an edge creeping into his voice. Seeing Chris stand there, looking almost menacing was in some twisted way, a little hot. Considering how much my stomach turned when Stan gave me that same look, I felt my anger subside just a touch in spite of myself.

Before I could offer some kind of retort, Chris pushed past our carts and pressed me up against the wall. I could feel my heart beating so fast I was afraid it would burst out of my chest. He kissed me hard on the lips and for a moment I found myself returning the kiss before I realized where I was and what I was doing. I attempted to wriggle out of his grasp. "Chris…" I said, letting my voice trail off.

"What?" he asked forcefully. "This is how you want me to be isn't it? Rough?" He leaned in again, and I instinctively snapped by head back, smacking it against the wall.

"Ow!" I cried out, rubbing the back of my head. "Chris, stop acting like this, please. When did I ever tell you I wanted you to be like this?"

"Well I just figured that since the guy you're with treats you this way, maybe I should too. Maybe that's what you really want."

I could feel my bottom lip begin to tremble, and I willed myself not to cry. "No, it's not how I want you to be," I said quietly. Despite my efforts, tears began to well in my eyes. "Why are you being acting this way?"

Chris took a few steps back and ran his hands through his spiky hair. "I don't know what came over me," he said. "I…I'm sorry Mal." He turned around abruptly and began to furiously wheel his cart away. I stood there, breathing noisily until a girl walked past me and gave me a strange look before I realized I must've looked like a lunatic. I grabbed my own cart, and silently shelved books for the next hour or so. When my cart was empty, I went to find Chris so we could shelve the final cart together.

As we rode down in the elevator, he turned to me again. "Mal, I'm really sorry. I acted like such an asshole. I just….I care about you and—"

Without warning, the elevator gave a sharp jerk and shuddered to a stop. "Are we stuck? Did the elevator stop?" I asked frantically, the panic rising in my throat.

Chris was pushing the buttons, glancing up at the wall, where the number three was still lit. "I think so," he murmured. He pressed the alarm bell continuously for a few moments. "Someone will hear the bell I'm sure."

For some reason I had never thought of myself as claustrophobic person until the lights chose that very moment to go out. "Help!" I shrieked, feeling myself lose control. I had terrible mental images of the cable snapping and both of us falling to our deaths.

Chris was immediately at my side, stroking my hair. "It's okay, Mal," he whispered soothingly. "Everything is going to be okay. I would never let anything happen to you." His hand found mine in the darkness, and I could feel myself start to relax.

We stayed there for a few minutes, holding hands in silence until he pulled his hand away. "I guess I should press the bell again," he said, sounding reluctant.

"Is there a phone?" I asked. "Maybe we need to call someone."

"Well, I can't see a dang thing in here. Hold on, let me feel the wall to see if I find a panel." A few moments went by, before Chris spoke up again. "I'm not seeing anything in here. How the hell can you build an elevator and not add a phone?" He pressed the alarm bell solidly for a good two minutes. "Help!" he shouted, sounding just a bit panicked. "Help! We're stuck in here!"

After what seemed like hours (though probably not more than five minutes), the lights came back on and the elevator started to hum again. I blinked at the sudden brightness and looked around. I noticed the number two was now lit and breathed a sigh of relief. "We're moving again!"

We reached the first floor and the doors opened and we both spilled out, running smack into Richard. "Was that you guys in there?" he asked, sounding worried.

"Yeah," Chris replied. "The elevator just stopped."

"Are you guys okay?"

"We're fine," I spoke up, glancing at Chris. He smiled at me, a private smile. "It appears to be working now."

"Well, I told the receptionist to call the elevator company to have them come out and take a look at it, just in case. In the meantime, I'm going to have her make some signs so that no one else uses the elevators until we know for sure they're working properly," Richard brushed a lock of his wavy hair out of his face. "I'm glad you're both okay, and if you want, you can head home with your full day's worth of pay."

"I actually don't mind staying, Richard," I said casually, feeling a wave of happiness wash over me. Oddly, I suddenly wanted to be back in that elevator with Chris again. My hand still tingled from his touch.

"Me neither," Chris added.

Richard glanced back and forth between us and shook his head. "Are you guys sure? Getting stuck in an elevator must be scary, and I'll understand if you guys just want to head home and take it easy."

"I'm fine Richard," I said defiantly. "Honest." I looked at Chris, who nodded his head vigorously, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

"All right, if you guys insist," Richard said, finally relenting. "I guess we should leave that last cart for another time. Why don't you guys just do a sweep of all the floors? That is, if you don't mind using the stairs."

"Not at all," I replied. A "sweep" was basically checking each floor thoroughly for spare books lying around such as on the work tables, desks, or even the couches where people usually curled up and nodded off after a long night of studying. It would take much longer to do a sweep without the aid of an elevator or a cart, but I was now looking forward to spending the extra time with Chris.

I took off towards the periodical section, with Chris right behind me. "Hey, Mal, let's start from the fourth floor, and work our way down," he suggested.

I shrugged my shoulders agreeably and headed for the stairs. As soon as we entered the stairwell he turned my face toward his and gave me a gentle kiss on the lips. "Getting stuck in that elevator with you…even though it was just a short period of time, it really told me something. I want to be with you Mal. No, I _need_ to. I don't care about Stan or what people will think. I will wait for you until you realize you want to be with me as badly as I want to be with you."

I stared into his hazel eyes, my heart melting into a little puddle inside of me. "We will be together," I said to him. "I promise. Just give me time."

* * *

I was giddy with excitement while walking home. It was dusk, but the air was unseasonably balmy and warm, a positive sign that springtime was near. I slipped my denim jacket off and let the wind caress my face and arms as I swung the jacket in a circle before I slung it behind my shoulder.

I saw Stan's apartment loom overhead, and I braced myself, hoping he wasn't in one of his moods. He'd been working a lot of long hours the past week or so, now that the weather was cooperating, and he would often come home tired and grouchy. I usually just stayed out of his way, and buried my nose in my books. If there was anything good to say about my current relationship with Stan it was that my grades were better than ever. Stan, of course, would get happy whenever he saw me studying. "That's my girl," he would say, and plant a kiss on the top of my head.

I would never admit to anyone that a huge part of me still wanted to help Stan. There were moments that we'd shared that I felt I saw a real person come through, someone who was just very confused and who'd led a hard life. I didn't want to give up on him the way others had. I knew deep down that what I felt for him now was more affection than love, and as I walked up the steps my head replayed the events of the afternoon. Getting stuck in the elevator with Chris. Kissing him. Promising him we would eventually be together.

I unlocked the door and breathed a small sigh of relief when I saw Stan wasn't home. I figured he was probably out getting us some food, but I still relished in the few moments I would be allowed to pore over my own thoughts.

Though I wasn't one to believe in things like destiny or fate, I couldn't help but wonder what sort of forces were at work to push Chris and me together today. Other than bad electrical wiring, that is. I knew that I had to start distancing myself from Stan soon. Now that things had calmed down between us maybe it would be easier to leave him. After all, he still hadn't laid a finger on me since Christmas. Of course, those events were completely forgotten or forgiven, but maybe Stan had realized the error of his ways and was working on becoming a better person. I wanted to be the one that helped him realize that he couldn't treat people the way he did. I wanted him to see that just because he was hit and hurt by those he loved and trusted didn't mean he should take it out on the people that loved and trusted _him_.

Most of all, I guess I wanted to feel as if I had some sort of positive influence in his life. As lame as it may have sounded, it would feel as if I'd made some sort of accomplishment if I could show him that he could push me around and I still wouldn't leave. Maybe then he would realize that not everyone that he loved would leave him, the way his mother did. Or maybe I was just fooling myself.

"Why are you sitting alone in the dark?" Stan's voice cut through the air, startling me out of my thinking.

"Hey!" I said, jumping up from the couch and giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Sorry about that. I guess I'm a little out of it today. I was stuck in the elevator at work!"

"Oh no, are you okay?" Stan set down the McDonald's bag he was holding and wrapped me up in a big hug.

"I'm fine," I replied. "It was a little scary," I added truthfully, "but we were out of there pretty quick." _Crap_, I thought. Why did I have to say "we"?

Sure enough, Stan instantly picked up on it. He raised an eyebrow at me. "We?"

"Oh, just a coworker. Richard was having us shelve some books and it was really less than five minutes that we were in there, but it felt like forever!" I hoped that he would let the comment go, since I really didn't want to argue with him.

He nodded. "Oh," was all he said. "I got you a Big Mac," he continued, nodding towards the McDonald's bag.

I breathed a small sigh of relief. "Great!" I said, even though I'm not a huge fan of McDonald's. "I'm starved."

We took our food into the kitchen and munched silently for a few moments before Stan cleared his throat and gave me a serious look. "There's something I wanted to ask you, and I want you to feel free to say no."

"Sure," I said warily.

"Well, you know about my mother," he began, his voice wavering just a bit.

"Of course," I said gently, placing my hand over his.

"What you may not know is that the anniversary of her death is coming up, and I wanted you to go with me to visit her grave."

My heart stopped. "Of course Stan," I said. "Of course I will."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

I surveyed the outfits that lay before me and tried to decide what was most appropriate for going to a cemetery to visit someone. I hadn't lost anyone close to me before, so I never really had the occasion to go to the cemetery for personal reasons. My grandmother on my dad's side had passed away a few years back, but she lived out of state so we only really saw her on holidays. My other three grandparents were alive and well, and I considered myself fortunate to still have them in my life.

I was still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that I was actually going with Stan to see his mother. It was the one and only time he'd ever let me in, and it was hard to believe that he wanted me to experience this with him. Part of me wanted to support Stan, and the tiniest part of me felt guilty. My goal had been to begin to slowly distance myself from him, and now, knowing what today meant to Stan and how hard it would be for him to cope in the days after, it made it all the more difficult. I knew Chris didn't entirely believe the story of Stan and his upbringing, but he seemed to back down a bit when I mentioned our plans for the day.

"No one deserves to lose a parent," he'd said. "Even if I don't like him, if that's the case then I truly sympathize with him."

I told him I would call him in a few days, and I even shut my phone off completely to not be tempted. It was the least I could do for Stan, considering what I was doing behind his back. It was funny; I told myself that the moments Chris and I spent together were not cheating. In some warped place in my mind, I'd convinced myself that because we hadn't fully physically gone all the way with each other we were fine. I guess it could be called the Bill Clinton logic. I knew I was treading dangerous waters, but at that point I was past caring. All that mattered when Chris and I were together was just enjoying each other's company for the few precious moments we had. Then I would have to pull myself away and sneak back home before Stan caught me.

I'd never imagined myself keeping up with such a tangled web of lies. It felt like something you would see on a bad Lifetime movie. I just kept telling myself that I was merely biding my time. I _would_ leave Stan. All in good time.

I heard a knock on the door and out of instinct, attempted to cover my bra and panty clad self with my hands. "It's just me," Stan said. "No need to hide yourself."

I laughed nervously and lowered my hands. "Just trying to find something suitable to wear," I said, quickly rummaging through my clothes.

Stan was wearing faded jeans and white cotton polo shirt. "You don't have to dress up, Mallory," he said slowly, as if speaking to a small child. "It's not a job interview."

I smiled at him lamely. "Oh, okay then," I said, turning back to my clothes. "Casual it is." I went to our closet and selected a pair of blue jeans and an emerald green sweater. I slipped my clothes on quickly and bent over to retrieve my shoes from under the bed. Stan walked up behind me and smacked my butt, causing me to let out a surprised yelp.

"Your butt looks great in those jeans," he said, winking as he walked out of the room.

I shook my head. _He's probably just jittery about today_, I told myself. _It's not worth fighting over._ Still, it didn't stop my thoughts from drifting to Chris immediately after. I wondered what he was doing at that very moment. I wondered if he was thinking of me.

I scolded myself for allowing my mind to wander and went over to the dresser where I attempted to pull my fluffy hair into a ponytail. I applied a thin layer of pressed powder over my face and one coat of mascara. No need to go all out in the makeup department, I figured. After all, it wasn't a job interview.

"Mallory, you ready?" I heard Stan call from the kitchen.

"Yeah," I answered, stopping to grab my denim jacket from the hall closet.

The cemetery where Stan's mother was located was in a town called Eastbridge, which was well over an hour away. I was bringing my worn copy of _The Horse Whisperer_ along for the ride, hoping Stan wasn't in the mood for talking.

Whatever spurt of warmth we were treated to last week was long gone, as the temperature had easily dropped at least twenty degrees. I shivered as a strong gust of wind whipped around my face.

Stan gave the car a few moments to warm up before pulling out onto the road. I settled back and started to read. I hadn't read more than a paragraph when Stan spoke up. "You plan on reading the whole way there?" he asked, his tone accusatory.

I sighed and placed my thumb in the book to mark my spot. "Not if you don't want me to," I replied obligingly.

He appeared to think about it for a moment. "Nah, go ahead," he said finally. "I should probably focus on remembering how to get there anyway." He gave a small little laugh and I turned away so he couldn't see me roll my eyes. Why did he make a big fuss if he was just going to back off?

"Do you feel weird about going back?" I asked him.

"It's been awhile," was his reply, which didn't really make sense considering my question, but it didn't matter. I returned to my book and let Stan drive.

I was so engrossed in my book I didn't notice we had arrived until Stan said, "I'm just going to be a minute. Wait here."

I looked around, surprised. "Oh. We're here," I replied. I turned to look at him, confused. "You don't want me to go with you?"

Stan looked at me as if I'd just asked him, "Is the sky blue?" or some other inane question where the answer is obvious.

"Mallory, this is something personal to me. I wanted your company, of course, but this is something I need to do alone. I'd expect you to understand."

I bit my lip. "Of course, Stan. Take all the time you need, I'll be right here."

I watched as Stan jogged up a short hill and turned. I wondered if these visits of his were annual, and if he remembered exactly where his mother's grave was. From where he'd parked, I could see him. The grave where he stopped was exactly in the center of the long row of tombstones. I watched him as he sat down on the grass and appeared to be talking. I desperately wanted to know what he was saying, and I easily could have rolled the window down, but I didn't want to risk getting caught. Besides, I probably should respect Stan's wishes and give him privacy.

I saw Stan get up several minutes later and begin to make his way back to the car. I turned my attention back to my book and pretended to be reading when Stan came back in. "Okay, ready. Wanna go get some lunch?" He spoke as if he'd just dashed to the corner store to buy a gallon of milk.

I stared at him. "Are you sure you're okay?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"Besides I figured you'd be a bit emotional over seeing your mother."

"No sense in wasting any more tears over the matter. It won't bring her back."

"That may be so," I replied slowly. "But it's perfectly understandable to still miss her, and be sad about it. You don't have to be strong for my benefit."

Stan furrowed his eyebrows and narrowed his eyes. "I'm not _being_ strong, Mallory. I _am_ strong. I've been through a lot of shit, and you don't gain anything by crying, trust me." He laughed bitterly, as if holding on to a memory he'd rather forget.

I didn't respond and instead sat back in my seat, wondering exactly why Stan had wanted me to come. I had initially thought he wanted the moral support, but it was clear that wasn't the case. In fact, he didn't seem to be very sad at all. Suddenly, Chris' words from our disaster dinner came rushing back to me: _"I wouldn't put it past him. He's clearly manipulative enough to do it."_ Was Stan lying? Did he even visit his mother's grave? Was that why he wanted to be alone? The questions whizzed through my head quickly, and I realized I didn't have the answer to any of them.

"Hey Stan," I said, as he was pulling away. "I want to see your mother's grave."

"Why?" he asked distractedly, beginning to make his turn down the hill.

"Because I love you," I said simply. "And because I want to talk to her."

Stan stopped the car abruptly. "What do you have to say?"

"It's private."

"Mallory, don't be an idiot."

"What's wrong with wanting to talk to her? I care about you Stan! I want to tell her what a great man you've become!" I was lying through my teeth, but I didn't care. I had a sudden, desperate urge to see that tombstone.

Stan stared at me, angrily at first, but then slowly his features softened and I was convinced he would pull over and allow me to talk to his mother. But as quickly it came, his features became set again into an angry expression. "No," he said flatly. "I told you this was personal." He started to pull the car away again.

Then I did the stupidest thing. Who knew what was going on in my brain at that moment? Whatever it was, it definitely wasn't logical thinking. The desire to know whether or not he was telling the truth was taking over me, controlling my actions and thoughts. I opened the car door and jumped out of the car, slamming the door behind me. I tripped over my own feet coming out and fell on the pavement, but I quickly got up and pressed up the hill. I could hear Stan shouting my name behind me and cursing. I knew I was asking for it, but I kept going. I ran up the hill and turned to the row he'd turned, running down until I'd reach what I was convinced was the center.

I looked down at the tombstone. I figured his mother's last name had to be Stewart, right? The name looking back up at me read "MILLER". I glanced quickly behind me and saw Stan had parked and was just getting out of the car. "Devoted Father and Husband," the tombstone read. Well, that couldn't be it. The one next to it read "JAMESON" and had a photo of a young child, and the dates 2001-2004. Three years old, I realized sadly. But clearly, that couldn't be his mother's tombstone either. I noticed Stan was frantically making his way up the hill and I turned to the tombstone next to Miller, knowing that was my last hope. The last tombstone was moss covered and faded, and much smaller than the other two. I knelt down to look at the name, which read "CHRISTENSEN – Wife, Mother, Friend." For a moment I felt guilt forming in the pit of my stomach until I saw the dates of death: January 13, 1890 – June 27, 1931. There was no way that could be Stan's mother. He had lied to me!

I stood up angrily, just as Stan reached my side. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he shouted. I looked around and hoped no one else was paying their respects nearby. I turned back to him. "Shouldn't I ask you the same question?" I asked calmly.

"What are you talking about?"

I lost my temper then. Was he serious? "Um, HELLO?" I yelled, indicating the tombstones. "This is where you were! There's no 'Stewart' here! Or even a mother that passed away within the last twenty years!"

Stan sank down on the floor and didn't speak. I was still raving. "I mean, why did you ask me to come here Stan? Why? Your mother clearly isn't here, and maybe she isn't even dead! Who knows? I don't even know if you're really even from this town, hell I don't even know if Stan is your real NAME! I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!" I realized my voice was getting shriller with every word. I could feel myself losing control. I was so angry, I was shaking. I took a deep, shuddering breath and tried to calm myself down.

"Mallory, I can explain. But maybe we should take this somewhere else." Stan had finally looked up, his eyes bright and his face completely resolute.

"We can discuss this right here," I said firmly.

"Fine," Stan sighed, and patted a spot of grass next to him. "Sit."

I obeyed out of sheer curiosity. Stan didn't appear to be mad, nor did it appear he was going to slap me the way I'd feared he would. I felt empowered and in control, and oddly, I liked the feeling. I looked at Stan expectantly.

"Let me just preface by saying that my name _is_ Stan, and I _did_ grow up in Eastbridge," he began, a smile playing on his lips. The look on my face must've been one of pure rage, because his smile immediately faded when he checked to see if I was happy at his little revelation. He set his mouth in a thin line and pressed on. "You know my real age; you saw my birth certificate, remember?"

"Yes, I remember," I snapped. "Right after you smacked the shit out of me. That was a fun day." Normally, I would have never even thought to utter those words, to stand up to Stan, for fear of the consequences my smart mouth would cause. At that moment, it was obvious that Stan was feeling vulnerable, and I was mad enough to go for it. It felt stupid and humiliated. Everyone had been right, and I'd been an idiot for not seeing the real Stan. He'd lied about his age, his past, and who knew what else. I wasn't even sure how I could trust what he was telling me now was the truth, but I figured he looked too sorry for it to be anything else.

"My dad was never a druggie; he and my mom got divorced when I was three," he said. "But the struggle my mother and I went through, that was true. The only difference was about how she died. It was my fault. It was all my fault," he continued, his voice breaking. Tears formed at the corners of his eyes. "I wasn't the easiest kid to care for. I got into a lot of fights in school, and I ran with a bad crowd. We snuck around liquor, cigarettes, and other stuff that I don't even want to get into. My mother tried so hard to keep us together and I didn't even care then. I was such a little prick. I was never in Cub Scouts or anything like that. I would come home drunk and high, and she would beg me to get cleaned up. I wish I could've seen then what I see now, how hard it must've been for her. We would always get into fights, and they'd usually end with me slamming my door and blasting rock music.

When I was fifteen, I ran away. I thought I was the shit. I thought I didn't need her, or any of the teachers that tried to help me in school. I thought I was above all of them. I didn't see how the things they were teaching me would ever help me in life. I was always good with my hands; the only class I ever liked was shop. I knew it was what I was meant to do, so I figured, why bother with all this other stuff? I stayed with some of the kids who I'd been hanging around with who were much older than I was. They had this crappy apartment not too far from here, in the really bad part of town.

One day, we were having this crazy party. That was what our lives were all about. None of us went to school, we just hung around and drank and smoked and snorted to our heart's content. Well, I guess things got a little loud, because pretty soon the cops came and busted the party up. Of course they saw what we were doing. I had a bunch of stuff on me, and I got hauled away to juvie. It was probably the best thing that could've happened to me. I cleaned myself up, and realized that I wasn't going to go anywhere in life heading down the path I was. When I got out, I went looking for my mom. Only, she wasn't around. She'd –" His voice broke again and he let out a wrenching sob. I found myself completely wrapped up in his story. Never before had I seen him act so…_raw_ in front of me.

"What happened?" I whispered.

"There was some new person living where we were at, and they said that the woman who lived there before had died as far as they knew. The news hit me hard. I asked our other neighbors, and they confirmed it. Apparently when I ran away she'd gone door to door, asking the neighborhood to help in the police search. No one knew where I was, especially once the school started calling. She was afraid that I'd gotten into some sort of trouble. They searched for a few days, combing the area, but obviously they didn't find anything. Then one night, for whatever reason, she decided to go looking for me again by herself. She went to the area near where I was, which as I said was a really bad part of town. She was just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. There was some sort of gang fight, and she was caught in the crossfire. She was hit in head by a stray bullet while she was driving to try and get away. It killed her instantly." He collapsed on me, sobbing as he'd never done before.

"My family never really had much money, and she'd always told my grandmother that her wish was to be cremated should she ever die. As soon as my family found out what had happened, they didn't hold a funeral and instead went ahead with her wishes. She's probably sitting in an urn right now on my grandma's fireplace, but I haven't gone down there to see them. I'm sure they blame me for her death, as I blame myself."

He took a deep breath and looked around. "I come here because I wish more than anything I could tell her how sorry I am, for the way I was growing up. I wish she could see that I grew up okay, thanks in part to her never giving up on me. I wish I could…I wish I could just give her a hug and tell her that she deserved better."

Tears were streaming down my face, and I was rendered speechless by his story. I did the only thing I could. I sat beside him, and clasped his hand tightly in mine. Suddenly an odd thought struck me. "Stan? What makes you come to this particular tombstone?"

Stan reached out and gently touched the first tombstone I'd seen, the one that read Miller. "That's easy. This is my father."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

I woke up one sunny April morning to the sound of my cell phone ringing. I rolled over to my side and rubbed my eyes as I glanced at my alarm clock, which read 8:37. I shot up in a panic, before realizing it was Saturday and I didn't have class. I grabbed my cell phone from the night table and snapped it open.

"Hello?" I said groggily, my voice coming out raspy and hoarse.

There was silence on the other end.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" I repeated, with a slight edge in my voice. It was bad enough to be woken up on a weekend when I just wanted to sleep in, but to not have anyone answer is was a bit worse. I rolled over on my other side and noticed Stan had already left for the day. He had to work that weekend, and he wasn't happy about it.

"Mallory?" someone finally asked uncertainly.

"Yes?"

A sigh. Followed by, "It's me…Jessi."

I almost dropped my phone. "Jessi?"

"Yeah…how've you been?"

It was too early to fully process. Jessi, my former best friend, was calling me bright and early on a Saturday morning after not speaking since graduation. My immediate instinct was that something was wrong. However, I decided to let Jessi arrive at her motivation for calling herself, rather than prod her. "I've been good," I said casually, as if we had just spoken last week. "You?"

"Just wonderful," she said enthusiastically. "Julliard is so amazing!"

Despite our lack of communication senior year, I knew Jessi was going to Julliard. I think the entire class knew. Anyone who was going to an especially prestigious school was congratulated in one of our final morning announcements. "That's great, Jessi, I'm really happy for you," I said sincerely. No matter what problems we may have had in the past, I still wished nothing but the best for Jessi. She was one of the most talented people I knew, and she deserved whatever success came her way.

"Thanks," she replied, and I could practically hear her beaming over the phone. "What about you? How's school going? What was it called again…Carson?"

"Cameron College," I corrected her. "It's going great," I added, trying to muster up the same enthusiasm but failing miserably. "I uh….love all my classes."

"Cool," she replied. There was a long moment of silence. "Well, I'm sorry for calling you out of the blue like this," she began. "It's just I'm home for the weekend, and I was cleaning out my room and I found all the notes we used to pass to each other in school. Remember those ones that we'd fold up into little squares?"

I suppressed a giggle. "Yeah," I said, smiling at the memory. "I also remember coming up with a really silly code because we were so paranoid they would somehow fall into the wrong hands and we didn't want them to know what it said!"

"Wow that's right! Except I think we were total idiots and we'd always put the code key on the back of the note or something!"

I burst out laughing. It felt like old times.

Jessi suddenly cleared her throat. "Oh no, I just looked at the time! I'm so sorry, were you sleeping?"

"I was," I said, leaning back against my pillows. "But it's okay."

"I didn't even realize," she went on. "You know me…I get up so early to practice to me it feels like eleven!"

"It's okay, honest."

"Hey listen," she said suddenly. "Did you want to get lunch or something? Maybe tomorrow? We can catch up on old times…I'm here in Stoneybrook, like I said. Maybe I could drive down there. I've got my car and GPS so I don't mind." She sounded insistent, almost pleading.

I quickly scanned my brain to see if I had any specific plans or if I had to work, realized the answer to both was no and said, "Yeah, sure that sounds great."

"Awesome!" she gushed. "I'm so excited!"

"Me too," I said, feeling a little bubble of anticipation well up inside me at the thought of seeing Jessi again. How would she look? Was she still as tall and graceful as ever? I gave her the address for the school, and told her how much I looked forward to tomorrow. By the time we got of the phone, I was smiling and ready to face the day.

The next morning I got up early again. I wanted to look have plenty of time to get ready for Jessi, so that by the time lunch rolled around, I would be relaxed. Stan was still asleep next to me, snoring lightly. I got out of bed as quietly as possible and tiptoed into the living room to watch TV. There were some old episodes of _Saved by the Bell_ on, which was perfect since I already felt nostalgic.

I was in the middle of my second episode when Stan stumbled into the living room, his hair wild and uncombed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "What are you doing?" he grumbled impatiently. Stan is definitely not what I'd call a morning person.

"Watching TV," I said calmly, even though I thought the answer was pretty obvious. Maybe I should've said "churning butter" to see what type of response I'd get.

He stared at the TV as if it were a foreign object. He blinked several times and opened his eyes wide, as if trying to make the TV come into focus. A wave of recognition washed over his face and he rolled his eyes. "God, _this_ show?" he said with distaste.

"You don't have to watch it," I pointed out carefully. "I tried not to wake you since I know you like to sleep in. Why don't you go back to sleep?"

"Well I can't _now_," he said, exasperated, as if I were stupid.

"Why not? You can sleep through anything." It was true. One extremely windy night the windows rattled so badly I lay awake all night while Stan slept peacefully beside me.

"Look, I'm up. Once I get up I don't go back to bed. You know, Mallory, I had to work yesterday, in case you forgot. I don't appreciate being woken up on my one day to sleep in. You know I've got to go back to work tomorrow."

"I'm sorry," I said quietly, not wanting to argue. I hadn't counted on Stan being in such a sour mood. He wouldn't be happy to know that I was going to be leaving shortly.

I went back to watching the show when I felt as if I were being watched. I glanced at Stan, and realized he was staring at me expectantly. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"Aren't you going to make me breakfast?" he asked.

I sighed, flicked the television off, and headed towards the kitchen. "What do you want?" I asked.

"Whatever you're having," he answered before flinging himself on the couch and turning on the television. "Stupid show," he muttered as he changed the channel.

"I actually wasn't planning on having breakfast because I have lunch plans," I responded, praying he would just tell me something to make and move on.

He whirled around. "Lunch plans? With who?"

"I'm going with an old friend from high school, her name is Jessi Ramsey. Eggs okay?"

He didn't answer my question. He simply turned back to the television. "No, you're not," he replied evenly.

I came into the living room. "Excuse me?"

"I said, no you're not."

"Not what? Going to lunch?"

"That's what I said."

I felt my face turn bright red with anger. "What do you mean I'm not going? Of course I am!" I felt myself breathing heavily, and tried to calm down. He wasn't going to take this away from me, he simply wasn't.

"Make my breakfast," he said, as if I didn't even say anything.

I bit my lip to keep from losing my temper. Instead, I slowly turned and went back into the kitchen. _Look_, I thought to myself, _just make his breakfast and shut him up. He'll have no reason to not let you go then._

I grabbed two eggs from the refrigerator and a package of bacon. I slowly peeled off four strips and put them in a frying pan. In a bowl I cracked the eggs, added salt and pepper, and whisked them together. I quickly scrambled them up in a separate pan and topped it with shredded cheese so it would melt right away. I toasted up two slices of white bread, buttered them and cut them each into neat triangles. I arranged the bacon, eggs, and bread on a clean white plate and handed it to Stan along with a small glass of orange juice. "Here you go," I said, resisting the urge to curtsy.

"About time," he mumbled, yanking the plate out of my grasp.

I set the glass down on the table and sat across from him on the armchair, watching him eat his breakfast.

"Aren't you going to have anything?" he asked between mouthfuls.

"I told you I was waiting to go to lunch with my friend," I said. "I haven't seen her since graduation."

"Not much of a friend if she hasn't bothered to call until now."

"People sometimes don't keep in touch as much as they should in college. She's called, that's all the matters. I'd like to see her and see how she's been." I didn't mention that she was probably already on her way down, and we'd agreed to meet at El Sol, the Mexican restaurant Stan and I went on our first date to at twelve sharp.

Stan didn't answer. He was completely silent until he finished eating, practically licking his plate clean. He set the plate on the table and sat back, flipping channels. "Wash that for me, would ya?" he asked distractedly.

I gritted my teeth, but got up, and took the plate and his empty glass to the kitchen where I rinsed them off with soap and placed them on the dish rack. I dried my hands with a small towel and returned to the living room. "So…I'm going to go get ready now, ok?"

"For what?" he asked, his eyes not leaving the screen.

"For my lunch!" I exclaimed. Why was he playing dumb?

"I thought I made it clear you weren't going."

"And I thought _I_ made it clear I really wanted to go," I was pushing it, I knew. The last thing I wanted to do was argue with Stan, or even worse upset him, but he was really trying my patience.

Stan looked up at me then, a hurt look on his face. "You know, I'd planned this big surprise for you today, but you are making it really difficult to keep a secret."

I raised my eyebrows. "A surprise? What sort of surprise?"

"Well if I tell you it won't be a surprise anymore, now will it?" he said mischievously, glancing at me with a smile on his face.

I slumped down next to him on the couch. "Can you give me a hint?"

"Nope."

I frowned. "Are you making this up so I won't go to lunch?"

"Now see Mallory, that hurts. Of course I'm not making this up!"

"Then why won't you tell me what the surprise is?"

"I was saving it for later, that's all. Call that stupid friend of yours and tell her you'll have to cancel. You're spending the day with me." He pulled me close to him and kissed my cheek. I pulled away from him slightly, which thankfully he didn't notice.

"I can't just call and cancel, Stan. She's already on her way down here."

"Well that was dumb of you. Why did you make plans without checking with me first?"

"I didn't realize you were my keeper," I snapped, then braced myself for Stan's wrath.

He glared at me. "Watch it, Mallory. There's no need to be rude, you know."

Of course he didn't seem to notice _his_ rudeness in calling my friend stupid, and ordering me around, but there was no point in trying to reason with him. I sighed unhappily, feeling completely stuck. I glanced at my watch. It read 10:43. Maybe Jessi hadn't even left yet, I thought hopefully. I got up and dashed to our room to get my cell phone. I sat down on the bed, feeling a dull ache in my chest. I was a terrible person. Jessi calls me to make plans to try and reconcile and I bail on her. Then again, it's not as if we couldn't go out to lunch another day. Stan was the most important thing in my life right now, and I should focus on strengthening our relationship instead of one that hadn't existed for almost a year. _That's pretty crappy reasoning, Mal, and you know it. _

I dialed Jessi's number and waited. "Hello?" Instantly, I could tell she was already on the road. Her voice sounded very far away, as if she were on an earpiece.

"Hey, Jessi, it's Mallory."

"Hey Mal! I got a bit of a late start, but don't worry, I'm on my way. I'm about twenty minutes out of Stoneybrook so according to my GPS I should be there by twelve-fifteen."

"Oh…um, oh boy, Jessi I'm so so _so_ sorry to do this to you, but I'm going to have to cancel our plans today." I bit my lip, hoping she would understand.

"Sorry, Mal I've got my window open, hold on…okay, what was that you said?"

I told her again. There was silence on the other end of the line.

"Cancel?" she said finally. "Why, did something happen?"

I stared out the window, wondering what I could say that would not make the situation look as bad as it was. "It's my fault; I totally forgot its Stan's sister's birthday today. We were going to go to her birthday party." I didn't even know where the lie came from. It just stumbled out of my mouth before I could really control it.

"I see," she said quietly. "Maybe some other time then."

"Definitely. Maybe next weekend?" I asked hopefully.

"I'm only in town this weekend," she reminded me. "I'm not sure when I'll be back."

"Oh right," I mumbled, feeling stupid. "Jessi, I feel awful. I'm so sorry that you started to come out this way and I bailed on you at the last minute. We'll do something, I promise. The next time you're out, call me and I will totally clear my schedule for you!"

"Sure," she said, suddenly sounding a bit uneasy. "That sounds great. Well, I should get going, I guess. I gotta find a place to turn around. I'll see you around, Mal." With that she hung up, leaving me feeling even more miserable than before.

I got dressed quickly, not really caring what I looked like. I slipped on faded jeans and a plain long sleeved white shirt. I didn't bother to do anything with my hair, despite the fact that it was especially fluffy that day. I shuffled towards the living room. "I called Jessi," I said, unsure if Stan was even paying attention to me. He appeared to be completely engrossed with whatever was on TV.

"Cool, how'd she take it?"

"Obviously not well, Stan. She was already on her way down here." I stared at him disapprovingly, wishing he weren't so insensitive.

"Eh, she'll get over it."

"At least one of us will," I muttered.

* * *

A few hours later Stan and I were walking along campus. It was a beautiful, sunny day. It felt nice to know that after a long dreary winter, spring had finally arrived. In spite of everything, it was hard to be upset while feeling the warm sun beam down on me. It was one of those days that just made you happy being outside.

As if reading my thoughts, Stan commented, "It sure is nice out, huh?"

"Yeah." I was trying to be nonchalant, but to be honest I was dying with curiosity as to what my surprise could be. Somewhere in the back of my mind I still wasn't sure if Stan had made it up to just get me to cancel my lunch. Just to prove to me he could.

We walked until we reached the courtyard that was smack dab in the middle of campus. It was a favorite meeting spot for Cameron students, and the place was bustling with its usual activity. To the left was a huge grassy area where several students were sprawled out, enjoying the warm sun. While some appeared to be napping, others had books open in front of them, and some were eating their lunch.

Stan and I made our way through the crowd and found an empty spot to sit at, right underneath a huge maple tree. The initial little springtime buds had started to fall, and the leaves were beginning to grow. I settled underneath the bit of shade provided and pressed my back up against the rough bark. Stan lay out next to me, his head resting on my outstretched legs. I closed my eyes and gently ran my fingers through his hair.

Several moments of quiet passed before Stan abruptly got up. "I think it's about time for your surprise," he said mysteriously.

My heart started to pound. "Really?"

He nodded. "I was waiting for just the right moment, and this is it."

He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small velvet box. Immediately I felt as if my heart was going to leap out of my chest. He couldn't be doing what I thought, could he? Stan got up and knelt down in front of me. "Mallory Pike," he began in a clear, loud voice. "Will you marry me?"


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

"What do you think my parents will say?" I asked as we drove down Slate Street. Stan parked in front of my parent's house and turned off the engine. When I originally agreed to marry Stan, my one condition was that we tell my parents in person. He accepted my condition grudgingly, but here we were. Butterflies fluttered about in my stomach, and I swallowed a few times to try to calm my nerves.

"I'm not sure how they're going to react, Mallory," Stan replied, looking like he was ready to walk off a plank into a sea of ravenous sharks. "They don't exactly like me."

_Maybe that's because you've been a jerk to them_, I thought. Quickly, I pushed the thought out of my mind. Now was not the time for my hurtful thoughts. I was going to marry a man I cared greatly about, and it would be better to focus on the positive. I laced my fingers with Stan's and gave his hand a squeeze. "It'll be fine. They'll probably be surprised, but we just have to show them how much we care about each other. My parents will support me if they know I'm happy."

Stan smiled at me. "Well, what are we waiting for then? Let's get this show on the road!" I couldn't help but notice he emphasized the word "show."

We made our way up to the house and knocked on the door. I hadn't told my parents I was coming; and I wondered if the would be surprised I was even there, let alone getting married. I heard the sound of thundering feet, a common occurrence any time someone was at the door. The door was opened by Byron, who indeed seemed surprised to see me. I had spoken to my family a few times since Christmas, but we hadn't actually made it back down since then. "Hey Mal!" he exclaimed. "It's great to see you!"

I leaned over and gave Byron a huge hug. "Good to see you too, Byron. You remember Stan, right?" I asked, stepping aside so Stan could come through.

"Of course. Hey." They shook hands. We stepped into the living room and sat down on the couch.

"Mom and Dad are upstairs, I think. I'll go get them."

I smiled encouragingly at Stan. "You ready?"

He nodded, but before he could answer, my parents came rushing down the stairs. "Mallory!" my mother yelled, throwing her arms around me. "How are you sweetie?"

"Great, Mom. Dad!" My dad chose that moment to ruffle my hair, which I've asked him many times not to do. You can't exactly ruffle curly hair. It sticks up and tends to hold the shape in which it was ruffled. At least mine does. I attempted to smooth my hair back down as my parents and Stan said hello.

"So, what brings you down here?" my mother asked, trying to sound casual even though I could tell she was bursting with anticipation.

I wasn't wearing my ring, since I didn't want our news to be an immediate giveaway. I put my hand on Stan's lap and took a deep breath. "Well we have some exciting news for you," I began. Immediately, my mother's face fell. She knew what was coming. Still, I forged on. "Stan and I are getting married!"

My parents were completely silent. In fact, the room was so quiet I could hear the ticking of the wall clock in the kitchen. "Married?" my mother said, sounding incredibly strained. "Aren't you a bit young, Mallory?"

"I'm old enough to know that I love Stan and want to marry him," I said defensively.

My mother sighed. "Mallory, I'm not trying to question your feelings. It's just I want to make sure you've given plenty of thought to your decision. What you're about to do is a big step, and I just want you to be sure you're ready."

"Dee, I think I can speak for both of us when I say that we're ready to make a commitment," Stan looked back and forth between my parents, reaching for my hand now and holding it tightly. "I love Mallory, and while it may seem rash, I know my feelings are true. Mallory is a wonderful woman and I know she will make me happy for the rest of my life."

"What about school, Mallory?" my father asked, speaking up for the first time. "Planning a wedding takes time, and that'll be difficult if you're in class all day."

I swallowed nervously. This is where I might lose them.

"Well, I've been giving it a lot of thought, and I've decided to take next year off. I would like to get married next summer, and I wanted to spend that time planning."

My mother's jaw dropped open. "Take a year off? Are you sure about this?"

My father looked angry. "Mallory, I don't think that's a good idea at all. Why can't you just wait? If you love each other, why don't you put your marriage on hold? Education should come first!"

"Mallory's a grown woman. This is what we both want," Stan put in, coming to my defense.

"If she's grown then you should let her speak for herself," my father countered.

I buried my face in my hands. Things were starting to sour. I needed to get things back on the right track. "He's only speaking how I feel. I love Stan, he loves me, and I want to get married!"

"If Stan really loved you he would understand that you should focus on getting your education." My mother glared at Stan. "Just because you're in your senior year doesn't mean you should force Mallory to put her life on hold for you!"

Stan smiled. "I'm not in my senior year, Dee. That's another thing you should know. Since we're putting everything out on the table I feel I should tell you I'm actually going to be twenty-eight in April."

I stared at Stan in horror. I had not told him he could tell my parents _that_. I glanced back at my parents, waiting for their reaction.

"TWENTY-EIGHT?" my father boomed, standing up and staring Stan straight in the eye.

"How could you keep this from us, Mallory? You've been living with a man nearly ten years your senior and you've been lying about it?!" my mother said furiously.

I heard the scurry of feet at the top of the stairs. Vanessa poked her head down to see what was going on. My mother didn't even turn around. "Back upstairs!" she ordered.

"But I want to see Mallory…" Vanessa whined.

"Go!" my father ordered, his voice so loud it echoed off the walls. My parents rarely got this mad, so Vanessa immediately did as she was told.

My father paced the room, fuming to himself. "I can't believe this," he muttered. "What is wrong with you?" he shouted at Stan. "What kind of twenty-eight year old man goes looking for someone barely eighteen year old? Don't you think you should be with someone closer to your age?"

Mom placed her hand on Dad's arm. "John, let's try and discuss this calmly. Mallory is an adult, and she's allowed to make her own decisions."

My father angrily shook Mom's arm away. "Let's be realistic, Dee. Mallory is telling us she's marrying a twenty-eight year old man and not going back to school. She's not only lied about the fact that she was living with him, she lied about his age, and who the hell knows what else?"

"That's everything," I mumbled, as if they even cared. "There's nothing else to know."

"Well I feel so _relieved_," my father said sarcastically.

My mother sighed. "John, honey, please let's just try to discuss this as adults." My mother sounded weary, and I felt terrible for upsetting them so much. However, at the same time, I couldn't help being a little upset myself. Why couldn't they just be happy for me? Hadn't they ever heard the phrase "Age is nothing but a number?" And besides, it wasn't as if I was telling them I was leaving school permanently. I had every intention to return once I was married.

My father finally sat back down. "I'm sorry to say this, Mallory, but if you get married I can't give you my blessing. I'm not going to support something I don't believe in."

Mom looked at me sympathetically, but didn't say anything. She seemed to be a somewhat on my side, but I knew she felt torn because clearly my father felt the opposite. I glanced at Stan, who was giving my father the evil eye. "Dad, this is what I want to do, and I wish you could understand that. The age difference may seem jarring at first, but I love Stan for who he is, and it doesn't matter that he's older."

"I am sorry you can't share in our happiness," Stan said earnestly. "I wish things could be different, but I can imagine as a father you are worried about Mallory's well being. I can assure you that I will always take care of her. She is my number one priority."

"Stan, I'm sure that you care for our daughter. However, I would imagine that someone who was truly concerned with her well being would let her finish school, instead of encouraging her to quit."

"I'm not quitting!" I exclaimed. "Will you stop saying I'm quitting? I am _taking a year off_. There is a big difference. Also, I don't appreciate you blaming Stan for my choices. It is _my _choice to leave school, Dad. Stan didn't force or pressure me in any way. In fact, he has always told me how important school is. If there was ever a time that I would begin to slack on my schoolwork, he would always be there making sure I got back on track." I'm not quite sure why I'm speaking so passionately about the subject. To be honest, a small part of me is terrified at what I'm about to do. I know my parents have a right to be worried; heck, I wasn't too thrilled myself when I found out Stan's real age. Of course, it's something I don't think about anymore, but I understood their concern.

I tried to sympathize with them seeing as how we are giving them a lot to handle at once. I've never really seen my parents ever be quite so adamant about something. That's not to say that they were terrible parents who let us run wild, but their methodology was always pretty hands off. I guess when you have eight kids you can't really try to keep a constant watch on them at all times. It would be impossible.

"I'll tell you what I don't appreciate," my mother spoke up suddenly. "I don't appreciate you talking back to your father. I don't care if you're eighteen or eighty, you should always have respect for your parents. What's gotten into you, Mallory? You were always so levelheaded and practical. I feel like you're not the same girl who first went off to college!" My mother's voice cracked at the end, and she looked like she might cry.

I tried to soften my tone. "Mom, I'm still the same person. I'm still practical, which is why I fully intend to go back to school after I'm married. I'm not doing this on a whim; I've given this a lot of thought and I'm sure this is what I want to do."

"I've tried to see your side of things Mallory," my mother continued. "I've tried to be open about the matter. You come here out of the blue and drop a huge bomb on us, not to mention you've revealed the fact that you've been lying to us for the past several months, and you expect us to what? Pat you on the back and tell you congratulations? I'm sorry, honey, but it doesn't quite work that way."

I could feel my emotions bubbling up inside of me. I burst into tears. "You just don't want to understand!" I wailed. "You can't tell me what to do anyway. It's like you said, I'm eighteen now. I'm officially an adult! I came here thinking I was doing the right thing in telling you, instead of just running off and getting married. Is that what you would've preferred? Would you rather have heard about it after the fact?"

"Of course not, Mallory," my mother replied. "It's just-"

I stood up. "Let's go, Stan."

Stan got up and followed me without another word.

"Mallory, don't leave!" my mom pleaded. "This is a lot to process, and your father and I are dealing with it in the best way we can."

"You're not going to change your minds, I know it! I can't see you ever approving of my decision, so if you don't approve, I don't know what else I can say. I'm sorry to be like this, but this apparently how it has to be."

My father stood up and put an arm around my mother. "Let them go, Dee," he said quietly.

I brushed past them, feeling angry and hurt all at the same time. "Mallory! Wait!" I looked up to see all of the kids rushing down the stairs. "Please don't go!"

My father ushered them all down. "Say goodbye to your sister," he said. "I don't think she'll be coming back for awhile."

I glared at him, but leaned down and give each of my brothers and sisters a hug. I felt a tugging sensation in my heart, but I pushed it away. If my parents couldn't see or understand that Stan and I loved each other, then I was going to have to distance myself from them as much as possible. When they were ready to accept my decision, then could come to me.

"I'm sorry it had to be like this," Stan said to them. Was he smirking?

"Oh, you don't care!" my father shouted, not caring that the kids were still lingering. "You will never be a welcome member of this family do you hear me? I don't care what my daughter says about you, I don't trust you, and I haven't from the moment you set foot in this house!"

I stared at my father in shock. "You never even gave him a chance!" I shouted.

Mom stepped in between us. "That's not fair, Mallory. We _did_ give him a chance. I seem to remember Stan being quite rude on Thanksgiving. We didn't say anything out of respect for you, but since that seems to be out the window; I can't help but agree with your father. Stan is no longer welcome here." Her lip is quivering, and I can tell she's going to cry at any moment.

"Fine! We wouldn't want to be here anyway!" I stole a quick glance at my brothers and sisters, mouthed "I'm sorry", and made my way out the door.

I heard the door slam behind me, followed by my mother sobbing. I almost stopped and turned back, but I kept going. Stan came up and placed his hand on the small of my back. "That went well," he joked.

I glared at him. "Not now, Stan." I went to the car and slammed the door, slumping down in my seat. I stared at the house, and I could see Vanessa, Margo, and Claire with their noses pressed against the window. I waved, willing myself not to cry. Stan got in beside me and started the car, peeling out of there so fast the tires squealed against the pavement. I leaned back, closing my eyes. It was going to be a long ride home.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

May second turned out to be a beautiful day. The sky was a deep blue, with only a few puffy clouds here and there. Birds were singing, a gentle breeze rustled the fully grown leaves on the trees, and the sun beamed down warmly against my bare shoulders as I made my way to the cafeteria. On the surface, it was a perfect spring day.

Except for the fact that it was my birthday, and I felt as if I had no one to share it with.

Normally, I would've gotten a call from my parents and siblings, wishing me a happy birthday. My mom would've probably gotten misty over how big I was getting, and my dad probably would've mused over the fact that I'd been an official adult for a full year.

Stan had prepared breakfast in bed for me, and given me a beautiful pearl necklace with matching earrings. I put them on immediately, and then set about trying to find the perfect outfit to go with them. I ended up settling on a cream colored sleeveless blouse, dark blue jeans, and brown loafers. Later, I realized that the cream only accentuated how ghostly pale I was, and how I was in desperate need of some color. I made a mental note that I would have to make sure I had a nice glow for my wedding.

I entered the cafeteria and immediately went to the salad line. I wouldn't necessarily call myself fat, but I probably could stand to lose a few pounds. Growing up, my family had always affectionately called me "stocky", which was basically a nice word for "pudgy". It's one of those words that was created to soften the blow of what you really are trying to say. For example, instead of calling someone weird, you'd say they were quirky. Or if you don't want to call someone dumb, you might say they're remedial. The list goes on and on. I for one, used to hate when people would tell me what a knockout I was going to be when I got older. They might as well have said, "Okay, you're kind of a dog now, but maybe with extensive work you'll look semi presentable when you get older."

I proceeded to pile some lettuce leaves, tomatoes, carrots and cucumbers on my plate. I figured I didn't have much time to get in shape before the wedding, so I'd better start right away. I started to pile on crotons, and then realized they were probably full of butter. Sighing, I slid them off my plate. I opted for fat free Italian dressing and tried to convince myself it would taste as good as the ranch. Boy, I'd only been on a diet for two minutes and already I was going crazy.

I figured I couldn't get by on a plain salad, so I got a small cup of tomato soup. I attempted to balance my lunch on my tray as I scanned the cafeteria for either someone I knew, or an empty table. Lo and behold, I spotted Meghan and Betsy sitting down with two other girls I didn't recognize. I took a deep breath, and made my way over to them.

"Meghan! Betsy! How are you?" I said as I approached them, trying to sound as enthusiastic as possible, and not like we hadn't spoken in months.

They both glanced up from their food and stared at me for a moment, as if they didn't know who I was. Of course, I couldn't say I blamed them if they were upset with me. I had virtually ignored them and spent all my time with Stan. Why should they want to talk to me now? I stood there nervously, waiting for them to answer, feeling all eyes at the table on me. It was almost too much to bear. I started to turn and go, feeling stupid for even thinking they would want to talk to me.

"Mal! Wait!" I heard Meghan call.

I turned around.

"Come sit with us," she said, smiling. She indicated to one of the empty seats. "I haven't seen you around in awhile," she commented. "How've you been?"

"Fine," I answered, unsure of why I felt so nervous. I took a bite of my salad, still feeling as if everyone was looking at me. For good measure, I said, "I've missed you guys."

"We thought you dropped off the face of the earth!" Betsy exclaimed in her usual dramatic fashion.

I forced another smile. "No I didn't drop off the face of the earth."

"By the way, this is Emily Rivers and Janine Andrews. Emily is in Betsy's European History class, and Janine is in my math class. Girls, this is Mallory Pike. She used to–"Meghan paused then, and for a horrible moment I thought she was going to say "used to be friends with us." Instead, she cleared her throat and said, "She used to live in our dorm."

I smiled and said hello to Emily and Janine. "Why don't you live in their dorm anymore?" Emily asked, taking a bite out of her cheeseburger. She had straight black hair streaked with reddish highlights, and dark brown eyes. Her eyebrow was pierced, and she had a row of piercings going up her right ear. I noticed that she had on about a hundred silver bangle bracelets that jingled as she ate.

"I, uh, couldn't stand my roommate," I said, which wasn't exactly lying.

Janine leaned forward conspiratorially. "Really? What's her name?" She had gorgeous auburn hair that fell past her shoulders in thick waves. Why couldn't I have had hair like that? I wouldn't mind being a redhead so much if my hair looked like Janine's. She also had blue green eyes, which almost looked catlike. She wasn't wearing a spot of makeup as far as I could tell, but she was still extremely pretty. I couldn't help but feel a spot of jealously over her natural beauty and amazing hair. Some people really do hit the genetics jackpot don't they?

"Her name is Sarah Jensen. She's –"

"A total slut," Emily said, cutting me off. "You seriously roomed with Sarah Jensen? I feel for you, I really do. I'm actually friends with her new roommate, and I hear about nothing but the enormous amounts of sex she has on a daily basis." Emily wrinkled her nose, as if trying to banish the images from her head. "With different guys, mind you. In fact, Darlene was thinking of asking to change roommates too. But then she figured she would stick it out since it's so close to the end of the year."

"Wow," I said. "Glad I got out when I did."

Suddenly Betsy screeched so loud the table next to us turned to stare. "You didn't!" she shrieked. "Tell me you didn't!" I realized she was looking at my hand.

I tucked my hand behind my back, feeling embarrassed. "Stan and I are getting married," I said quietly. "Surprise!" I added, trying to make a joke.

Meghan sat back. "So you're still with Stan, then."

"Who's Stan?" asked Emily, probably sensing the slight tension. She glanced back and forth between Meghan and me.

"Stan is Mallory's boyfriend. Well, fiancé now," Betsy said, answering for me. "She ended up living with him after she moved out of our dorm."

"Well, that was pretty lucky, having a boyfriend on campus!" Janine exclaimed.

I only smiled in response.

"Yes, very lucky," Meghan said. She looked at me and raised her eyebrows, then shook her head slightly as if to say, "I can't believe what you just did."

"So is he cute?" Janine asked, continually unaware.

"To me he is," I said stupidly. Another one of those phrases that people say to be nice. I might as well have said, "You guys would probably think he's ugly."

"Shoot!" Emily exclaimed then. "I forgot I had to go to the library. Will you come with me, Janine?" she asked, looking pointedly at Betsy. Secretly, I was thankful that she was sensitive enough to sense that Stan was clearly a touchy subject between us.

"I'm not done eating," Janine complained.

"It's just a burger, Janine. You can eat it on the way." Emily got up and shooed her out of her seat. "Let's go."

"Okay, okay. You don't have to rush. Nice to meet you Mallory," she said pleasantly, before being practically pushed out the door by Emily.

"Bye guys!" Emily called out before they left.

"I can't believe you're marrying Stan!" Betsy said as soon as they were out of earshot.

"Neither can I," Meghan added. "Mal, are you sure about this?"

Suddenly, I felt like I was back at my parent's house. Why couldn't people just be happy for me? Why did I feel as if I was constantly defending my relationship with Stan? I felt too tired to argue the point. "I'm sure," I said, and left it at that.

"Cute pearls," Becky cut in. "Were they a gift from Stan?"

I'd almost forgotten about my pearls, but I reached up to finger them self consciously. "Yes, they were," I answered. "A birthday gift."

"Oh goodness! That's right, your birthday's in May, isn't it?" Meghan asked then, apparently forgetting she was upset with me. "Is it today?"

"It is."

"Happy birthday!" Betsy shrieked, causing more people to stare. "We should totally go to The Corner tonight and celebrate! Just like we used to!"

"Betsy, don't be silly. Mallory's engaged now. I don't think Stan would want her going there. Would he Mallory?"

"Probably not," I reasoned. "Besides, we were planning on going out to eat tonight."

"Right. Of course. How silly of me," Betsy said, finally calming down. "We should hang out sometime, Mal. I really miss the three of us spending time together."

"I do too," Meghan agreed, her face softening a bit.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "I've missed you guys so much!" I said, feeling more emotion than I realized. Maybe this was what I needed. Maybe the reason I wasn't feeling myself lately was because I'd somehow cut off ties with the only friends I'd made at college. I felt as if I was missing out on an experience I wouldn't be able to get back. I decided right then I was going to change that. "You're right, Betsy. We should hang out again. How about we just do something totally low key? We can go to a movie or something, maybe grab a bite to eat after?"

"Mallory, I'll have you know that if you intend to go with me to dinner and a movie I'll expect a kiss goodnight," Betsy teased.

I giggled. It felt like old times. "You got it."

* * *

I took my time walking home, basking in the warm sunshine. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and stared at it. No missed calls. I hadn't received one call on my birthday. What did that say about me as a person? Had I truly isolated myself so much that not even my family could take the time to call? Had things gotten this bad and I just never really noticed it? I realized it'd been awhile since Jessi was supposed to visit, and I'd wondered if she'd ever made another trip to Stoneybrook. If she had, I hadn't heard anything about it. She was just another person I'd disappointed.

I stopped in front of Stan's apartment and made a mental list of all of the people in my life that I no longer maintained contact with since I met Stan. Meghan and Betsy for one, but that appeared it would change. Jessi. Chris. And most important, my family. Why did things have to be that way? Why couldn't I make everyone happy? I wondered why I wasn't able to balance my relationship and my personal life. Was I doing something wrong? Things had gotten so much better in our relationship I hated that I couldn't share my happy stories with anyone close to me. All they had heard about was the bad, and none of the good. Sighing, I walked into the building and let myself into our apartment. The apartment was completely dark, which surprised me because I knew Stan had said he was going to get off work early so we could go out to dinner.

"Stan?" I called, dropping my book bag on the floor.

"In here," he called from the bedroom. His voice sounded quiet.

I headed towards the bedroom, when I suddenly noticed there were little white and red things strewn all over the floor. It took me a moment to realize they were rose petals. I followed them into our bedroom, where Stan stood, holding a single red rose. Candles were lit all around the room, and I noticed behind him was a bottle of wine and two empty bottles on the dresser. Next to the wine was an elegant silver bowl filled with strawberries.

"What's all this?" I asked, feeling a bit overwhelmed. No one had ever done anything like this for me before, and I wasn't quite sure how to react. "What about dinner?"

"I figured we should have an intimate, romantic birthday celebration instead. After all, it's your first birthday as an engaged woman."

Hearing those words still sent shivers down my spine. I had to admit that things between Stan and I had been perfect in the last month. He'd been a complete gentleman at all times, helping out with the cooking and cleaning, and being extremely caring and kind. It was as if our engagement made him a different person. It only made me realize even more how much I really cared about Stan. I was determined to make the relationship work, and I knew that I couldn't be the only person in the world who had bumps in their relationship at one point or another.

I couldn't let go of the fact that I felt Stan needed me. When I looked at him now, I saw a man who lost so much at such a young age, and the effects of that made him a very angry person. Maybe all he needed was someone to love him unconditionally, and make him realize that life was more than anger and hurt. That life was too short to always be mad at the world. That life was so much more fulfilling when you were truly happy.

"You awake in there?" Stan asked playfully, breaking me of my thoughts.

I stared at him. "Yeah, I am. Sorry about that. I was just thinking how sweet it was of you do this for me."

Stan suddenly looked serious. "I spent some time thinking today about how lucky I am. I've made some major mistakes, and they could've cost me a wonderful woman. Instead, you were patient and understanding, and you stuck by me when I probably didn't deserve it. I want to make sure I never make those mistakes again. I was stupid, I was an asshole, and I will never be that person again. That's a promise."

I was slightly taken aback, and surprised that Stan was expressing himself like this. "I will hold you to that, Stan," I replied. "I hope you are never that person again, because I didn't deserve to be treated that way."

Stan took my hand. "I know, sweetie. I know that now."

* * *

I woke up the next morning and looked down to see I was completely naked. Stan had already left for work, and I was sprawled across the bed with my leg hanging over one side. Embarrassed, I struggled to slip on one of Stan's T-shirts that had been tossed on the floor after we finished the bottle of wine. My head pounded, and I walked carefully to the bathroom, trying to avoid the clothes on the floor, and the empty wine bottle at the foot of the bed.

I stumbled into the bathroom and took two aspirin, hoping it would soon clear my throbbing head. I splashed cold water on my face and brushed my teeth, then went into the bedroom to find something to wear. A quick glance at the clock told me I needed to hurry if I wanted to get to class on time, so I threw on a pair of jeans and a green short sleeved T-shirt. I could tell by looking out the window it was going to be another beautiful day.

I jammed my feet into a pair of sneakers, grabbed my book bag, and rushed out the door. I hurried across the street towards campus, enjoying the early morning sunshine. I smiled a little to myself as I realized how wild things had been last night. Being a little buzzed definitely helped me loosen up and not be so paranoid about whether what I was doing was right, or worry how I should be doing it. I decided that it had been one of the best nights Stan and I had shared. I just hoped we didn't need to have a bottle of wine every time we wanted to have a night like that.

I must've been so consumed in my thoughts I wasn't watching where I was going. I slammed into someone coming out of the building where my class was located. "Sorry!" I called out, pulling back to see who I'd nearly toppled over. I looked up and sucked in a big breath. Chris.


End file.
